


Same players, new game

by WarpzoneKid



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Aziraphale and Crowley are Adam Young's Parents, Demon!Newt, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Role Reversal, Role Swap, They all still have 5 brain cells each, angel!anathema, human! Crowley and Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpzoneKid/pseuds/WarpzoneKid
Summary: Everyone knows God plays an ineffable game of her own devising, but what if she had decided to place the pieces in new positions for her game.(In which most of the characters have had their roles swapped around.)





	1. In the beginning…

This story takes place in a universe. There are many universes. This universe in particular is known as universe GO-719-19. The universe you’re currently residing in is called AO-300-19 But to those who have no understanding of the universal catalogue system, this designation means absolutely nothing. You shouldn’t feel bad though, the system is known by only a few and understood completely by even fewer. That’s not the point, anyhow.

The point is that these universes all run parallel to one another; never touching, yet similar. Some similarities in each universe are as follows: The earth was created on the 21st of October, there are people who perceive cilantro as tasting like soap, an apocalypse (either in the past, the now, or the future), and of course, taxes.

But this story is focused particularly on the differences of this universe from another. But, just like other universes, this story will start, as it will end. In a garden. The first man and woman have just been cast out. Though, unlike in the majority of universes where this story takes place, they were not tempted by large talking snake, but by a small talking lizard. Said lizard was scrambling up the side of the walls of Eden’s garden to both get a better look and to make conversation with the Angel guarding the eastern gate.

The lizard started to wiggle and expand on top of the cat walk, his limbs expanding outwards, scales melding into flesh. (This Biblical event would later be replicated with eerie accuracy on the cover of a popular children’s book series about the horrors of war and the loss of innocence in the face of death or committing war crimes, Animorphs.)

In another universe, these two would have been born as humans in the 90’s. We aren’t in the universe, however. The angel of the Eastern Gate, named Anathema watched the man-shaped being awkwardly form next to her as he tried to think of a conversation starter.

“Well… that happened.” He said, catching her off guard as she was interrupted from her watching of the humans below.

“I’m sorry what?” She asked with accent that in a little less that 5,781 years would be described as American.She got a better look at him now that he was fully formed. He had short yet somehow wild and untamed brown hair that, if he wasn’t a demon, could be described as a halo around his head. His eyes were unnaturally glistening in the sun with a ring of red around the outside and a glistening reptilian gold in the center. His wings were extended behind him, ready to bolt if things went pear-shaped. They were the wings of a great grey owl, large, and colorless compared to her sleek and iridescent hummingbird wings.

“I said, that happened didn’t it?” He said sheepishly again.

“I’m sorry what’s your name?” Anathema asked sternly.

“Oh, it’s Newt.”

“Newt, a bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Anathema asked the demon who was known as Newt.

“Well, Heaven kind of... took our old names. And Hell wasn’t really prepared to start handing out 10 million new names. They started out good, though. Beelzebub, Hastur, Dagon, nice intimidating names and the like, but by the time they got to me... they gave me a once over and now I’m... Newt.” He finished, but noticed the Angel on his right ignoring him again in favor silently craning her neck to see the wandering humans. This gave him some time to analyze her.

She was shorter than him by 7 inches, her long brown hair piled tall on her head to give the illusion of more height. Her robes shone with an iridescent and turquoise hue that would not be available to mortals for a while. She was beautiful. Not that he was allowed to think that as a demon.

“Do you think they’ll be ok?” He asked

“What do you care, your the whole reason their out there now.” She asked rather coldly. She’d liked those little monkeys.

“Well, they really just told me to get up here and make some trouble.” Newt admitted, “I thought, ‘Original sin! That’ll get me noticed by the big guy!’ I just thought She’d give them a slap on the wrist, you know? Didn’t think she’d throw them out like this. Although, maybe I shouldn’t be…” He sighed, running a finger over the scales on the back of his hands that were still relatively newt sized and resembled dark freckles or moles more than scales anymore.

“Well, I think it’s just part of the great plan.” Anathema said, turning her full attention to Newt now. “God knows everything that’s to come and all of it is her will.”

“Then why build this whole garden if she knows that humans will sin anyways and go kicking them out?” Newt asked, not liking the implication that God knew from day one that he would get the boot.

“It’s, well it’s ineffable I suppose.” Before Newt could open his mouth she said “It means beyond explaining.” He closed his mouth.

They stood in relative silence for a while. Newt was seeing he was getting no where with the cold Angel and was ready to go back to hell and report his very good..? Bad..? Deed. They’d like it anyways. Then he noticed something. “Where’s your flaming sword?” He asked

“Whaaaat? I- I have it.” She flustered. “I just… Don’t need it right now.”

“Any other angel would have sent me to the bottom of the wall with a cauterized stab wound as soon as I got up here.” He said. “Oh my- you lost it didn’t you?”

“I didn’t lose it!” She said loud enough for Adam and Eve to hear.

“Then where is it?”

“I-I- I gave it away alright!” She wailed. “They were defenseless and naked and I just gave it to them in a moment of weakness! I’m a bad angel! That sword was given to me by Michael themselves! That sword was made by the best smiths in Heaven, just for me, and I gave it away! Oh! I just know I’m gonna fall for this!” She sobbed.

Newt had no idea how to comfort the cry angel and put an awkward hand on her shoulder, not knowing if it were ok to touch her. “There, there.” He whispered. “Maybe… maybe it’s like you said and God knew this was going to happen. It’s probably all part of the great plan or whatever.” He appeased.

“Y-you think so?” She sniffled

“Oh sure, your an angel. I don’t think you can go against her plan.” He said, his existence full proof of his own lie. But none the less Anathema needed to hear it.

“Th-thank you, Newt.” She said, wiping her nose on the back of he hand.

The thunder that was no longer building in the distance roared and Anathema jumped instinctively closer to the tall demon next to her. Rain started to pour on the pair and Newt lifted a large wing over his companion. Little did the two know that this small action would spark a chain of events for the next 6,023 years of human history.

>2008<

Just like in other universes, it wasn’t a dark and stormy night the night the Antichrist was born. Two demons popped out of the ground like worms in the rain. They lurked in the woods outside of a no longer consecrated old cemetery. Hastur held a picnic basket in his hand; but even though tonight was a night of celebration in Hell, him and his friend weren’t there for a picnic.

“He’s late.” The white haired duke snarled.

“I don’t know how this screw up got tasked with this job of upmost importance.” Ligur growled in agreement, feeling no warm fuzzies for his fellow lizard themed demon. “I hear he’s calling himself ‘Newton’ these days. I swear, every time I look at the little bastard, I think ‘This is the guy who got his foot in the door with the original sin? He looks like he never learned to tie his shoes! He even wears glasses when he doesn’t need them!”

And speak of the devil a bright blue reliant robin by the name of Dick Turpin came barreling down the old dirt road. And with it came it’s battle cry.

“MAMA MIA! here I go again

My my, how can I resist you?

Mamma mia, does it show again

My my, just how much I've missed you?”

The sounds of ABBA and unreliable car rapidly approached the demonic duo. The sounds died out as Newt scrambled out of the car. In the past 6000 years he had physically remained unchanged. (Except for a brief stint in the 14th century involving a bowl cut. We don’t talk about that.) He wore large thick spectacles that distracted people away from his lizard like eyes. He wore a black jacket covered in pins and patches that neither demon could identity. He ran towards the in a manner not unlike his namesake.

“Hail Satan!” They yelled at him.

“Yeah, uh, Hail Satan.” Newt said anxiously. He had no idea why he’d been called out to this dark, spooky (granted he liked spooky) neck of the woods. He was pretty sure at the moment that he was getting sacked.

Let us recount our evil deeds for the day.” Said Ligur . “I’ve tempted a politician into thinking a small bribe wouldn’t hurt, within the decade, he’ll be ours.”

“I’ve tempted a young priest with young girls in the sun. He would have been a saint, but I’ve filled his mind with doubt. Within the year he shall be ours.” Hasty said, looking at Newt expectedly.

“I’ve brought down the entire London phone network!” He declare proudly.

“That’s all?” Hastur asked

“How does this secure souls for our master?” Ligur requested

“Well it was a lot of hard work.” Newt said. (It hadn’t been. He’d managed the feat while trying to use an ATM to withdrawal cash for him and his landlady, a lovely little childless widow named Mrs.Pulsifer who told him often that he was like the son she never had and let him stay for cheap in on of her spare several spare bedrooms in her suburban home. Life was too complicated with all of these new fangled electronics, Newt had decided that humans peaked in the early 20th century.) “Think about it, no one call ambulances, or the police, or talk to their loved ones. I’ve been up here for a long time, I know how these things work.” He offered helpfully, barely placating the dukes. “So, gents, what’s this little meeting for? Company Halloween party soon? Need me to sign a birthday card? Is Lilith pregnant again and it’s my turn to host the shower?” Baby showers were of course, his design. He actually intended them to be nice for an old neighbor of his in the 50s. He’d gotten a commendation anyways. Instead of an answer he was handed a wicker basket.

“Open it.” Hastur commanded. Newt did as he asked. Inside was a golden haired male baby in a red blanket.

“What’s-“ Newt began.

“It’s time.” Hastur interrupted him.

Now, like all demons, Newt was very much for Armageddon in general terms. When it comes to it actually happening however...

“Now, I mean- why me?” He asked, genuinely surprised. He carefully closed the basket again and strode to Dick Turpin to secure the baby in the front seat. The other demons follow

“Oh don’t be so hard on yourself, o’ lizard of Eden. Besides it’s like you said, you know how it all works up here. It’d do you well not to disappoint.” Hastur cooly replied. “Ligur here’d give an arm to have your position.”

Ligur nodded. He’d definitely give someone ELSE’s arm for sure.

“Now get in the car and drive.” Hastur instructed, handing over a map with the location of the hospital circled in yellow hi-liter. (This was the only writing utensil available in hell) Newt readily obeyed, prepared to hand over The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness, in a picnic basket.

“What’s that mean?” Ligur asked, perplexedly pointing at the name written on the trunk of the car. “Isn’t that a sex thing?”

“Well no, you see it’s actually the name of a-” Newt began to give his cars origin when a hand slapped the car’s plastic shell.

“DRIVE MAN!” Hastur yelled and the three wheeled vehicle took off.

“Shit.” Was all Newt could say as he followed the map to a little country town called Tadfield

~Meanwhile~

Anathema was delicately arranging the crystals on a shelf in window of her store. She’d become fascinated by the “new age witch” movement and had spent decades running a shop that accommodated that interest. Her little SoHo store was filled to the brim with herbs, crystals, pendulums, and the like. She’d had her interest captured during the witch trials. The real ones, not the racist, classist power play the one in America had been. How these little humans had somehow come even a little bit close to replicating the occult power that she had at her fingertips through these little incantations and stones was incredible to her.

The prize piece of her collection however, was the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. She’d been lucky to swoop by Bilton and Scaggs and pick up one of the only two copies in existence before a fire destroyed them all. This work was the only work in human history to be full of 100% accurate prophecies. The reason for this was because God had considered Agnes to be quite a good drinking buddy and would drunkenly ramble about all of her big plans, and it’s quite difficult to forget any word spoked directly from the mouth of God herself without some form of brain injury. This made Agnes the last true prophet and every prediction in the book 100% Nice and Accurate.

The book sat preserved in a back room, preserved through miracles and only available to her eyes only. Well, her and the charming little old bookstore owner next door, but that was because he was very polite and probably the only other person in existence who was probably more excited about the book than her. Dealing in antique’s himself, Mr.Fell knew how to handle the delicate publication and give it back in the same condition it had been loaned in. It was a shame more young people could not be more like him, Anathema thought often.

The relative peace of the store was interrupted by the sound of flapping wings.She turned to see the eerie purple eyes of Gabriel staring her down. “Hello, Anathema!” He said with that sleazy, “I’m at the company Christmas party but I’d rather be at home watching Seinfeld but that big promotion is on the line and it’s fake it till you make it” type cheer.

“Gabriel! What a surprise!” She said, nearly bumping into a table full of sage. Gabriel gave everything a sweeping glare. He’d made himself very clear about his opinion on witchcraft in the past. It wasn’t a very high opinion.

“Well, I’m glad your having a nice night, shame their coming to an end.” He said, running his finger over a Amethyst pendulum.

“What are you saying?” Anathema replied to the ominous statement.

“Well, we in head office have it on good authority that the demon… What’s that stupid name hell gave him again? Newt? Has some rather interesting plans in the works. We’d like you to keep him under close surveillance. And stay undetected. It’s a miracle he hasn’t spotted you yet. This place isn’t exactly… inconspicuous.” He remarked on the jewel toned decor.

Anathema cleared her throat. “Well, Gabriel, I’ve been doing this for quite a long time. Since the beginning of time, in fact. I think I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can. Have a nice night!” He said as he sent his body back to Heaven.

Anathema nearly launched herself at her phone to call Newt before remembering a few key details.

Newt hadn’t owned a phone since he broke his Nokia in 2002.

For some reason the phone networks were down.

“I hope you have a good reason for all of this, Newt.” She muttered as she went back to rearrange the sage bushels.

~TADFIELD~

The nuns of the chattering order of saint beryl were currently doing what else? Chattering. Mother Superior was handing out assignments for the arrival of the The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness, or Antichrist for short arrived. Sister Mary Loquacious had been given the upmost important task of getting cookies for the incoming diplomat. Outside, Newt parked Dick Turpin, clutching the basket against his chest, where he saw a rather portly and clean shaven gentleman smoking a cigarette.

“How long’ve we got?” Newt asked the stranger, assuming him to be a deacon of some sort from the Sisterhood’s male counterpart.

“The contractions are 4 minuets apart, last I saw her.” Mr.Young spoke through his cigarette, assuming the young man to be one of those med students that they call in to watch operations and the like for school.

“Alright, cool, great, fan-bloody-tastic.” Newt huffed. “So I guess you’re the father then?” He asked.

“Well, I hope so!” Mr.Young chuckled.

‘You won’t be for long.’ Newt thought, but actually said. “Goodby, Mr...” he asked, wanting to know the name of the man who would raise The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness

“Young, Arthur Young.”

Newt waved goodbye and ran in. The first person he saw was a woman holding a tin of biscuits. The kind with the pink icing. “You there!” He said, running to her. He took off the glasses covering his reptilian eyes. It was to let her know, hey I’m the delivery guy here, not some random millennial who wandered in here on a whim.

“Master Newt!” She said in surprise.

“Take it.” He said “Take it to the Young’s room.” He said flustered as he left, wanting to get to his friend’s shop in SoHo as quick as possible to discuss oncoming events and apocalypses.

So Sister Mary Loquacious dutifully delivered the baby to room 3, where she’d heard about a Mrs.Young coming in. She’d come in and chatted and been polite with the couple until she saw another nun come in. They winked at each other.

As methods of human communication go, the human wink is quite versatile.

For example, Sister Theresa's meant “Where the hell have you been? We're ready to make the switch, and here's you in the wrong room with the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World, Lord of Darkness, drinking tea”

And as far as she was concerned, Sister Mary's answering wink meant while nodding“This child is the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness.

But I can't talk now, because there's this outsider here.”

Sister Mary, on the other hand, had thought that Sister Theresa's wink was more on the lines of Well done, that, Sister Mary. Which one is the future prince of darkness, so that I can check him out an ensure that he is healthy and clean.”

Now, in another universe, this would have been the end of things and actually the ideal scenario in avoiding a complete and utter cock-up. In this universe, it’s merely the start of different complete and utter cock-up. The Antichrist was strolled from the hospital room of Deidre and Arthur Young and into a room where the other baby was waiting to be cleaned and checked out as well and then switched around. Sister Teresa saw two other nuns there and handed of the othergolden haired male baby.

Now, much like on tv, having two similar white males within such close proximity can be confusing. The first thing they did was take the babies out of their respective color coded blankets. The process of looking them over was quiet a complicated one, that involved a lot of babies changing hands. It can and did get very confusing. It ended up with baby B being swaddled in a red blanket and carted off to the room of an American diplomat’s wife and the Antichrist being wrapped in white and being carted off to another room.

Now, while these nuns were quite satanic in nature, they were quite abhorred to the idea of killing children, no matter how excessive to the great plan they may be and no matter if they’d die in 11 years anyway. But, what to do about the baby with no parents? That had been the question until a quite lovely couple from London had been brought to their attention that were looking to adopt. Theresa rolled what she believed to be the excess baby into a well lit office.

“Dr.Crowley, Mr.Fell, say hello to your new, healthy baby boy.” She grinned.

Now, once upon a time, they would have been star crossed lovers. Stuck in a 6000 year long cycle of repressed pining. But in this reality, things were much different for them. Happier for sure. While Dr. Anthony J. Crowley may have been a demon in another life, the most demonic thing he’d done in this one was assigning a 8 page essay to his Astronomy students during exam season at the Imperial College of London, where he was employed. His husband of 16 years, Azira Fell, while certainly sweet and polite, was a bit too human to be considered an Angel like he was often called by his husband. The two jumped out of their seats and ran to see their new son.

They took turns holding him and cooing lovingly at him. Mother superior at that moment walked in to greet the couple. “Ah! I see you’ve already met the boy!” She said to the two of them. “Have you thought of what to name the boy?” She asked as she sat at the desk to put together the last of the paperwork for the adoption.

Azira flushed, “We’ve actually been disagreeing on what to call them for a while now. We were both in agreement about no A-names for sure. We’ve got enough of those for sure between the two of us.” He chuckled.

“Have you considered the name, Damien?” The older woman asked. She’d already lost the betting pool on the baby name for the Antichrist to sister Melissa who had the name “Warlock”. She was really hoping to at least have one baby named Damien tonight. It was her favorite name and if she had not dedicated her life to the church, then she would have named her own son that.

The two exchanged a look between themselves. They smiled, a whole conversation being had with their eyes. Of course, only Azira knew this, through his husband’s dark sunglasses, even though it was night and they were inside. Anthony spoke now.

“We like it.”

It had been 1 hour since the Antichrist had arrived on earth and he was currently being loaded into the back of a very old antique car by a new set of adoptive parents, with the name of Damien Crowley-Fell. And so the clock began to tick:

11 YEARS UNTIL THE APOCALYPSE.


	2. The first 24 hours the Antichrist was on earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien Crowley-Fell comes home and an angel and a demon are discussing their options.

Anathema was alerted to her friend’s presence when she heard the squeal of three tires and the cords to “Thank You For the Music.” in front of her shops door. It was 4 am, currently, not that it mattered to Anathema, who would rather spend those 8 hours usually reserved for sleeping to browse Pinterest on her iPad and look at nice altars or read New Aquarian articles.

Newt ran into her store, causing her to slam down her iPad and throw it in a drawer like someone who’d been caught on a naughty website. (She most certainly hadn’t been, but whether it be because of his demonic powers or general incompetency, any electronic device created after 1985 seemed to give its last hoorah in Newt’s presence.) Newt looked haggard and disheveled, so Anathema was sure everything was business as usual. Newt trudged over to her and threw his body into the plush beanbag chair that sat parallel to her rocking chair, where she was currently weaving a dream catcher. 

“Ana, something very, very bad has just happened.” He said, taking of his glasses in a sign of familiarity.

“Well, you’re a demon, of course something bad happened.” She joked, not looking up. “Gabriel stopped by,” she stated, causing both of them to get a look on their face that resembled to look a person got when being told that they have to sit next to a baby on a plane. “And he told me that there was something afoot and that you, Newt, would know something about it.”

“Ok, I’m going to tell you. But you have to promise not to freak out.” He said in a very slow tone.

“Oh c’mon, Newt, I’ve known you for 6000 years, I know your tricks and there’s nothing you could’ve possibly done that can freak me-“

“I just delivered the Antichrist.” Newt blurted, very much freaking Anathema out. “Well, not DELIVER deliver, I’m a bit to squeamish for that. Hastur and Ligur just sent me a note to come to a specific location, and then BAM, I’ve got a basket full of Satan Spawn!” He exclaimed, waving his hands wildly as he spoke.

“Well…I guess this is it.” Anathema spoke solemnly. “This is the end.”

“This sucks.” Newt said, fisting his hair closest to his temple. “And just when I finally figured out how a radio works.”

“Well, it is simply as God intended, I suppose.” Anathema reassured poorly.

“How do you know that?” Asked Newt. “It’s not exactly like she’s kept in touch in a while. She’s been pretty tight lipped since well… forever.”

“Well, what if we had a prophet?” Anathema said hopefully.

“Ana, you know God’s not had one of those since all of that Revelation business. Oh no, Revelations! That shit-that shit was seriously screwy! Big kraken rising up from the sea, swarms of insects ravaging the land, the four riders! And then we’re going to have to go back to our head offices and then fight each other! Have you seen this body, Ana? This isn’t a fighter’s body! I’ll get done in the second I step foot on the battlefield!”Newt cried.

“Actually, God did have one last prophet. She wasn’t officially ordained as one of anything, but she was one.” Anathema said, running to her back room to grab her 17th century tome. “Behold, the nice and accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch!” She said showing off the cover. “Everything that comes from this book is 100% tried and true and best of all,” she flipped to the author’s biography, “Directly from the mouth of God!” She pointed at the passage explaining the books origin as well as recommendations for the best pubs in the village.

“If it’s so accurate, then why doesn’t everyone know about it?” Newt questioned.

“This is only one of two that ever were published. I’d been on a waiting list when I got mine and I don’t know what happened to the author’s copy.” She shrugged. “C’mon, give me a number. I can assure you it will be a real prophecy.” Anathema said surely.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Okay... 666.” He joked

Anathema, to enthralled in the prophecies to notice the joke dutifully flipped through the pages to get to prophecy 666. “Listen, o’ foul lizard of Eden. And know that my prophecies are true. Also watch thy elbow.” She read.

“Alright, you just made that up.” He said. He rose up to look at the book for himself and on the way up, his funny bone banged into the shelf next to him. “Okay. So, it’s real. Now what?” He asked, clutching his elbow.

“Well, Agnes does have some prophecies that sound rather, ‘the end is nigh’-ish.” Anathema said. “Maybe we can find some prophecies to help us. Maybe we can find the kid before it’s too late.”

“You aren’t suggesting we-“ Newt made a slicing motion across his neck.

“No! I’m just suggesting that we, y’know… convince him that the earth isn’t something he wants to destroy.”

“I thought that your lot were all about the whole, ‘Heaven will conquer hell in earth’s final hour.’ type deal.” Newt asked, “Won’t they be kinda mad if you put that plan on hold?”

“Well… They can’t exactly oppose me working against the forces of evil, can they?” Anathema said coyly.

“Well, I suppose they can’t.” Newt held out his hand. “Enemies?” He said.

“Till the end.”

Little did they know, at that exact moment two simultaneous things happened. For one, the book had metaphorically began to tick.

The other was that the Antichrist had just moved in next door.

Azira held his sleeping son in his arms as his husband drove the slowest and safest he had ever driven in his entire life. They parked the Bentley in front of the bookshop and silently made their way inside. Azira looked up at Anthony and saw a look of… something across his face. “What’s wrong, my dear?” He asked. Crowley sat down in a chair, sprawled out in a manner that his students often compared to a Jarl and looked up at his now larger family.

“What if I’m not a good parent, Angel?” He asked.

“Now why would you say such a thing, Anthony.” Azira said, sitting across from him now and giving him a concerned look. “You’re fantastic with children.”

“Well, yeah. Other people’s children.” Anthony sighed, “but this is a kid I’m going to see almost every day for the rest of my life. My own family was a bunch of bastards, you know that.” He said, ignoring his husband’s cry not to curse in front of Damien. “What if I’m just like them? What if that bad parenting is like, genetic. Oh my god, Azira, what if I royally screw this kid up for life? What if I end up raising the next Stalin?” He exclaimed, clutching his husband’s hand.

“Now dear, I’m sure we’re not going to raise a little dictator.” Azira assured.

“That’s probably what Stalin’s family thought too!” Anthony waved his hands about.

“Listen, Dear, everything is all said and done now. This is Damien. He is our son. Ours, plural. We’re not going to be perfect, darling. No parents are. But that’s why there are the two of us. If one of us slip up, the other one is there to make it right again. Your family may have been one hundred percent awful, but we’re not our parents, are we?” He asked, to which Crowley shook his head. “Besides you know what they say the best revenge is.”

“Served cold?” Anthony teased.

“Living well.” Azira rolled his eyes. “We’re going to give this kid the best life a kid can have. And we can start by bringing him up to his actual bed.” He said rising up from his chair, kissing his spouse on the cheek. His husband followed after him as they brought their son to the nursery that they’d prepared for him.

~Back with at the metaphysical shop~

The angel Anathema and the Demon Newt were currently going through the book of prophecy with several sticky notes, placing them down where they thought could be a relevant verse.

“Oh! What about this one!” Newt read out. “The end shall start where the end began.”

“That sounds promising.” Anathema agreed. “What could it mean though?”

“Well, that could mean three places by how I see it. Either Eden, Hell, or Tadfield.” Newt supplied.”

“Hmmm… better come back to that one. Ooh, here! ‘the young family shall stand witness to the end where the iron bird lands no more and Dameon’s lines shall in flames meet.’ Weird way to spell demon. Oh well, it wasn’t like there were dictionaries back then. Hmm, maybe this is referring to lay lines. I’ll have to reference my charts.”

“Oh the Young’s!” Newt exclaimed, “Thats the family the Antichrist was given to!” He now wrongly exclaimed.

“Wait a second, Newt.” Anathema turned to pull the iPad out it’s table drawer. It clicked on and the devices started playing “Gimme Gimme Gimme.” By ABBA on repeat and couldn’t be turned off. Any device that was too close to Newt and had the capacity to play music, had the annoying tendency to start playing ABBA’s discography. It had been like this since the 70’s.Anathema, used to the Demon’s curse, ignored this and got online. She turned to Newt. “Did you catch any first names?”

“Uh, I know the father’s name was Arthur!” Newt said helpfully.

“Great.” She typed in Google’s search bar, “Arthur Young, Tadfield.” And clicked “I’m feeling lucky.”

Instantly she was greeted by a Facebook profile. “Is this him?” She showed the profile picture off.

“Dead on.” Newt said, sure not to touch the device.

Anathema scrolled through the account and saw a picture of the man and a woman holding a baby in front of a house. “Tonight, my wife has just given birth to the newest addition to our home, Adam! Thank all of you for your message of love and support!” Anathema looked closer and saw an address plaque next to the front door where the couple stood.

“Newt, how would you like to try your hand in baby sitting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there demons, it’s me, ya boi. Back at it again with a chapter 2! Remember to comment your opinions and if you want more down below! Feel free to check me out on Tumblr @space-is-out-there


	3. The one about witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where did the second book go and what became of its owners?

Now, this story doesn’t just revolve around a set of supernatural beings and a couple of concerned yet human parents and their concerning and only half human son. This story is also about a few semi-supernatural humans. This keeps a nice balance on the human:occult ratio scale

To fully understand the importance of these humans, we have to take a step back from the now. And then take another step back. And then go on a hike, because it’s a lot of steps from here to 1656. Ah, here we are.

>1656<

Right now we’re just in time to watch the last witch burning in England. Very fortunate for the rest of the witches (and generally women who didn’t conform to society’s expectations, or just liked animals.) in England, not so fortunate for the woman about to burn. Her name is Agnes Nutter and she is actually a witch. And the last true prophet of the lord, but that’s not the thing that’s important to everyone in the angry mob about to storm her home. Agnes is currently, not too non-plussed about the whole thing. Maybe it’s because she’s made piece with it, maybe it’s because she’s secure in her faith, maybe it’s because she’s God’s favorite drinking buddy and will be greeted at the pearly gates with a glass of wine.

Either way, she’s very cool with the whole idea. In the crowd is a variety of characters, a witch finder general, some very ungrateful villagers, and a demon and an angel who were having a very serious debate in the back of the mob.

“I’m just saying that I think that these trials all have a very, ‘holier than thou.’ vibe to them. Sounds pretty angelic to me.” The demon argued

“Are you kidding me Newton,” The angel countered, using the demon’s human name. The last thing they needed was another burning today. “The unfair persecution of citizens? The fire? The atrocities committed in the name of God? Pure Hell.”

“I thought your lot hated witches, anyways. Like I thought it was in the big book.” Newt asked.

“I don’t think God really hates anyone. And angels were built to be creatures of love and understanding, anyways I think that it’s all fascinating.”

“The trials?”

“No idiot, witchcraft.” Anathema huffed. “It’s amazing, what Agnes achieved. She used the power she got from herbs and the earth’s energies to perform miracles to help people. You can’t hate someone like that. Also, She spoke rather highly of her.”

Eventually the burning party found themselves in front of a cabin on the outskirts of the village. A woman with frizzy brown hair stepped out. “You’re late.” She grumbled as she walked out. Now, at the front of the group trying to follow the witch to her pyre, Anathema picked up her skirts and speed walked to catch up.

“Mrs.Nutter!” She started. “Big fan of your work.” Newt jogged as well to keep up with them.

“Keep an eye out for my book then, angel of the lord, it’s going to be available through Bilton and Scaggs publishing.” Agnes said and then saw the scruffy young man approaching. She looked him in the eyes and then between the two flittingly. “Good luck with him by the way, you go girl.”

Anathema balked, “You know who-what I am? Great! I can help you, Mrs.Nutter! I can set you up in a nice little villa in Scotland. On the beach! In Rome! Anywhere you wish to go! Just give me the word.”

“I’m afraid that’s not God’s plan for me. She told me herself.” Agnes shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the end of the world. “A word of advice dear, make sure you and your friend stand a bit back.” She said as she walked to her own pyre and placed her hands behind her back.

What happened next would baffle historians and Anathema and Newt for centuries to come. The pyre blew up with the force of 20 cannons. Contrary to popular and occult and ethereal belief, the explosion was not the result of Heavenly or Hellish intervention. When the two opened their eyes they were surprised and embarrassed to see that they had both accidentally popped their wings out and had them wrapped around each other protectively. They awkwardly tucked them back in.

“What the- what was that?” Newt stuttered. “Did you do that?”

“Oh, now hold up, that was a pure demonic move!” Anathema retorted

“Oh don’t lie to me, you were chatting her up! I know you were offering to help her, you bleeding heart.” Newt exasperated

“I’m not a bleeding heart!” Anathema huffed, indignation across her features.

“Oh yeah, and I’m an angel!” Newt rolled his eyes. “Flaming sword?”

“Hey! We agreed not to mention that again!” Anathema shouted, now making her way towards the smoldering pyre.

Newt followed closely behind her. Her sniffed the air and flicked his tongue in and out a few times for good measure.

“Something smells weird.”

“Is it brimstone, demon?” Anathema asked

“No, more metallic.” Newt responded, flicking his tongue a few more times

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

At that moment a black hat drifted from the sky. Newt caught it in his hands as it fell lazily.

“ This hat be the property of the witch finder general Thou-shalt-not-commit-adultery Pulsifer.” He read the inside of the hat’s rim. “Ugh, I can’t stand this Puritan naming business. It’s all ‘Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith.’ Brown and ‘If-Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou-hadst-been-damned’ Walker. They’re really asking to get made fun of. It is a nice hat though.” He said, placing the hat on his head.

“Newt! That’s disgusting! That belongs to one of these corpses!” Anathema yelled at him.

“Don’t glare at me like that, foul woman! Or I shall have thee burnt at the stake for casting the evil eye upon me!” Newt acted dramatically.

“Oh shut it.” Anathema rolled her eyes, “And seriously, put it back.”

“I can’t just put it back in the air, now can I?” Newt argued, straightening the hat. “Besides, it’s a bit hard to identify a corpse with no face.” He said nudging a body with his foot.

In the distance, horses rode to the site of the of the explosion. Two men in black got off of their horses when they were closer and made their way to the duo.

“What hast happened here on this day?” One of the men, who were clearly identifiable as witch finders to a 17th century citizen, demanded.

“Um, well you see, the uh, the witch in her final dying moments cast a wicked spell and as we set her alight, she, well there’s no easy way to put it, she blew up.” Newt explained, making an expanding motion with his hands and little explosion noises with his mouth.

“And who might ye be?” The other witch finder asked. “And how did ye survive? Dost thou also beith a witch?” He asked, menacingly pulling out a pin

“No? No! I am, uh, it’s me! The witch finder general, Thou-shalt-not-commit-adultery Pulsifer! I know very well of the uh, the tricks of these evil witches and knew to stand back from the flames. I also managed to save this woman before you, because I could verily see that she was holy in the eyes of the lord!” He said, referring to his companion.

“She’s digging around the ashes.” One of them pointed out. Newt grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her towards him. If she had been given two seconds longer, funnily enough, she would have found the remains of a roofing nail, putting the whole argument of what happened that night to rest.

“She is clearly in hysterical shock with grief, my friend! You know how… women… are.” Newt said awkwardly. Anathema secretly glared at him. She technically wasn’t even a woman! She just liked the form! She was not about to try and argue gender politics with a 17th century puritan Anglo-Saxon witch hunter, though.

“Hmmm, how many nipples do ye have, knave?” One of the witch finders asked her pointedly.

“Just the two.” Anathema said, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Alright, that is that then. Witch finder general, Thou-shalt-not-commit-adultery Pulsifer, sir. Let us go and collect thy payment from the lord of the village and then we can all ride to the next village together!” The witch hunter urged.

“Oh um yes, righto!” Newt agreed, not prepared to have consequences for his lying. “I’m sorry, I must have missed the last meeting, and what are your names?”

“Mine name be, Witch finder private Dancell-Dallphebo-Mark-Anthony-Gallery-Cesar. Son of Dancell-Dallphebo-Mark-Anthony-Gallery-Cesa. My companion here be called Witch finder sergeant Jesus-Christ-came-into-the-world- to-save Helly.”

“Course it is.” Newt muttered.

“Come now Thou-“ Jesus-Christ-came-into-the-world- to-save began.

“Actually, to my friends and acquaintances, my name is Newton.” Newt implored. “Saves a lot of time that way.”

“Alright, now let us ride!” Dancell-Dallphebo-Mark-Anthony-Gallery-Cesar. Son of Dancell-Dallphebo-Mark-Anthony-Gallery-Cesa Shouted.

Newt leaned into Anathema’s ear. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Newt did not come back in a minute. He wasn’t even back in two or three minutes. And so, from that day forward, Witch Finder General Newton Pulsifer rode the land. Subsequently after that fateful day, not a single witch was ever found, burned, or tried in all of England. He still got a commendation in Hell anyways by taking credit for it all.

A few days after the burning of Agnes Nutter, Witch, her daughter and her husband came to town to go through her mother’s last will and testament. They were horrified to find an empty pyre and a full graveyard. It didn’t look very professionally done and most of the graves were unmarked, making it even more unsettling. The couple found themselves at the cottage that Agnes once inhabited. In the will they found a request that asked that her book of nice and accurate prophecies be published.

Two copies of the book were ever put out into circulation. One for the only person who had preordered the book at all, a young woman named Anathema. The other was the author’s copy, which every author is entitled to. Today, we are here to discuss the fate of the second copy.

The family of Agnes Nutter ,of course, was full of witches, a family tradition. And thus the book was passed down from mother to daughter to son to sister to daughter to daughter to daughter to daughter until finally it reached the hands of one Alina Device. Alina never had a daughter or even a son. What she had, was a wife. One Madame Tracy Device. Tracy, while not a witch in the traditional sense, was anything but nonmagical. She had found at a very young age that she could contact spirits and auras. And Tracy’s parents always said that if you’re good at something and you love it, never do it for free. And so Tracy got into the business of being a medium.

And sex work. She was also very good at sex.

Then something magical happened in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Inspired by a whim, Alina Device made the decision to to visit her family’s ancestral origin. In England, Alina found a rather booming psychic scene. So, while she was there, she decided to visit every self proclaimed psychic in the country; from stage magicians to television psychics to little old fortune tellers busking for tips. So far in her search, not a single one of them had produced a single quantifiable result. Then, while reading a newspaper in a little cafe in Surrey, she found an ad for Madame Tracy.

She claimed to be able to lift the veil and talk to those on the other side. As well as special “therapy”. Whatever that meant. So she found herself in front of an apartment that was a decade away from being described as a decade away from condemnation. She was greeted by an eccentric woman, wearing a bright violet wig and ornate and rather garish robes, including a powder blue turban of all things. Her shoulders slumped as she realized she’d been duped again, but a look at the woman’s apartment complex gave her the clear impression that this woman needed the money, and Alina had more than enough of that. Besides, if nothing else, the woman’s appearance and mannerisms gave the impression that this would at least be an experience she could probably laugh about when she went back home to her family in the states.

She was sat at a table with a few other people who had also made appointments with Madame Tracy. She clutched their hands as the charlatan before her recited a bunch of mumbo jumbo about lifting the veil and then started to flail her body around like a rag doll on meth.

It was getting a little sad.

Then she claimed to be possessed by the spirit of a little Irish psychic girl. Alina focused to see her aura and nothing had changed at all. But something was very slightly off about it. It was flickering like a candle. She’d only seen something like this before, when her grandmother had died. Soon several bodiless auras swirled around her own. Madame Tracy regarded each of them and they seemed to be whispering in her ears. Finally, she spoke, in a pretty clearly put on soft Irish accent, and she began to talk to each of the other patrons and deliver messages from loved ones. Not all of the messages were very polite, mind you. And she was truthful in telling some of the unlucky customers that there just wasn’t anyone waiting for them on the other side, causing a lot of grumbling and haughty looks from those who had received messages, no matter how nasty. Finally she got to Alina. She looked at her and gasped. “My dear... your aura... it’s so beautiful. It’s like multitudes of those before you live within you, protecting you. You have a great destiny ahead of you my dear, that much I can tell you.” She then called the session to a close.

Several people left, many unhappy, yet still forking over the cash on the way out. Finally Alina and her were the only ones left. Alina regarded her once more, no longer knowing what to think of her.

“I don’t get it,” Alina began to asked. “Why go through all of the trouble of lying to people about what you’re doing?”

Tracey coughed and rolled her eyes, clearly used to her abilities being questioned. “I can assure you that any and all sessions with Madame Tracy are 100% authentic and any satisfaction is not guaranteed, no I do not do refunds.”

“No, I know that the ghosts were there, but why go through the whole, ‘I’m possessed by a little dead girl’ routine?” Alina clarified.

“I don’t-“ Tracy began to flush

“I could see it in your aura. It was all you the whole time, why lie about it. You’re the only real medium I’ve met in this country, yet you’re only lying to downplay your abilities as someone else’s.”

“You- you can see them too?” Tracy asked, astonished. “I’ve never met anyone else with the sight.” Her eyes welled with happiness.

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, why, showmanship of course! Every psychic and their mother can claim to see the dead on their own, but the little girl spirit guide is a 100% Madame Tracy original.” She explained “I’ve gotta stand out somehow.”

“Then why not lie to all of those people then? Why tell them the unpleasant things and that not all of them have someone waiting for them?” Alina was even more curious now.

“Well, it’s just what’s right.” Madame Tracy explained simply and matter-of-factly like explaining to a child why eating mud was bad for them. “Besides, I can always tell which ones would be likely to come back anyways. I- I do tend to stretch the truth just an isty bitsy bit when I know that they’re going to be high paying regulars in the future.” She admitted sheepishly.

And so, a colleagueship was formed. Then that colleagueship blossomed into a friendship, and then into a relationship. Eventually, Alina was begging Tracy to come back with her to the states. And then they had a beautiful ceremony. And then they had a beautiful life together.

But nothing gold can stay, unfortunately. It was the year 2001 and Alina Device was dying. It was brain cancer they said. Nothing they could do for it. So, they sat hand-in-hand in the sterile hospital room. The best money could buy.

“My darling Tracy.” Alina said, running her fingers over the veins of her wife’s aged hands. “It’s very important that you know this.”

“What is it?” Tracy asked concerned.

“I don’t have long. But there’s something that you need to know. Something you need to do.”

“Anything, Love.” Tears we’re streaming down her face.

“I need you to save the world.” Alina weakly requested.

“That’s a bit of a tall order, my dear.” Tracy chuckled weakly.

“You know that book I told you my Great Great Great Great Grandmother wrote. The one with the prophecies? Fetch it for me.” She pointed at the bedside table with a limp hand.

Tracy hastily grabbed at the book and handed it to her wife. She read aloud in her accented voice

"Three shalle ryde and three sharl ryde the Skye as two, Wonne wille ryde the wind and Three shal ryde in flames; and theyr shall be nostopping themme: not fish, nor rayne, neither Deville or Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also, Tracy, lovr of mine descendant." Alina put down the book. “You’re meant for greater things, mi Corazon. Promise me you won’t stop living, even when I’m no longer with you. Promise me you’ll save all of this.” She looked around the rooms.

“Yes, of course, Love.” Tracy kissed her wife on the forehead.

A new player had joined the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always! Be sure to comment your opinions! Good, Bad, Other! And be sure to follow me and message on Tumblr @space-is-out-there


	4. Losing children is wrong and bad (especially if they are the Antichrist)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one about friends, family, and two ineffably dumb babysitters

It wasn’t easy being parents. It’s barely even much harder, if at all, when your child that is the actual spawn of Satan. Anthony and Azira has read almost every parenting book that was ever published in preparation for having a child of their own. Well it mostly Azira who did the reading and then relayed all of the information to his spouse, after he’d gotten his thesis and dissertation approved and officially earning the title of “Dr. Crowley, PhD.”, Anthony had made their intention quite clear of never touching a book longer than 100 pages of his own free will again. (One of the main appeals of Dr.Crowley’s class was that he never assigned any reading for his course work. Sure, he’d recommend a book here or there to supplement the lesson, but unless you were researching for a paper, you could easily skate through his class without touching a single piece of paper.)

They knew they were lucky. Anthony was tenured and even though all of his students were currently on break, was allowed a generous amount of parental leave, and Azira owned his own store and could make his own hours. If it were up to them, they would spend time with their son every minute of the day. It was simply worrying to have a baby in the house when you were quite sure until about 8 months ago that you were never going to have one.

Babies were small! And Delicate!!! And apparently they can just die at random for no reason at all!!!

They’d gone through all of the hoops before Damien came home with them. They baby proofed every piece of furniture and moved any plant off of the ground and they moved all of the alcohol to their tallest cabinet and locked it tight. They put gates on both sides of the stairs the led to the store down below and they replaced all of their blinds that had loop cords. They even put those plugs in the sockets that only Crowley could get out when she wore her nails long.

Soon enough, they had the safest home in all of SoHo.

They painted his room a dark blue, with a soft cream carpet and oak furniture. The ceiling was decorated with glow in the dark stars that Anthony had insisted on arranging himself, for complete accuracy.Azira had rolled his eyes and chuckled at first when his spouse had snatched the plastic package of sticky stars from his hands and he walked in an hour later to see her laying on her back in the nursery holding up her hand towards the ceiling holding up the middle three fingers to gauge the distance between them and repeatedly checking with one of the star maps she had taken from her office. Still, his heart swelled when he went to check in on the two one night and he saw Anthony bouncing Damien on his knee and pointing out each individual star and the constellations they were a part of.

Damien was almost 12 months old when his first display of power happened. It was a nice night. Damien had finally been put to bed by Anthony. When Azira put him to bed, it was with a story or fairytale, when Anthony put their son to bed, it was with a lesson about the stars. He’d place him in his crib and tell him about the multitude of stars and the stories the carried (sometimes with visual aids) until Damien fell asleep. The two husbands laid themselves down. It had been a long day of child wrangling. Azira decided now was a good time to finally finish his book while Anthony decided it was a good time to sleep. When Azira finally turned off his bedside table, done with his book, something outside of the window caught his eye.

He roused his sleeping husband by lightly shaking him. “Anthony, dear, look outside.” He said in a hushed voice so as not to wake the baby.

“Ngk.” He grunted in response as he sat up. He warily rose from the bed and strode to the window. What he saw woke him up in an instant.

Stars

Hundreds of stars.

It was like looking through the telescope at the royal observatory in a planetarium. He’d never seen so many stars in the middle of London before. He briefly wondered if there was a power outage, only to look at same streets, lit as always. His husband joined him at the window.

“That’s not normal, is it, Anthony?” Azira tittered nervously.

“That or I need to rethink professions.” Anthony scratched his chin. “I’m going outside to check this out, Angel.” He said, he kissed Azira on the cheek before he hurriedly changing from his silk pajamas into a loose T-shirt and sweatpants.

He ran down stairs and through the shop and out the front doors and into the street Only a few other people had stopped to take notice of the sky. The rest were either talking on their phones or at the several shops lining the road. It looked like a political cartoon created a few years from now by a baby boomer who didn’t understand that they where the ones responsible for the economic collapse, not the rise of the smartphone.

Speaking of phones, Anthony fumbled with what was currently the latest model of smartphone and called into the university to report on this. Within 20 minutes, a few cars driven by some of the other members of the astronomy department. They were tripping over each other to get out of their vehicle and pull their very expensive telescopes out of their trunks. After 3 hours of heavy discussion, one of the astronomers pulled him aside to talk to him. She was a short woman, only a few years younger than him at 35. Her black braids were pulled into a sloppy bun and she wore no makeup and her clothes were practically the same as his. He recognized her as Dr.Maria Woods. It was clear she’d been dragged out of bed by this.

“Dr.Crowley.” She yawned. “I have to admit, I thought when I got the email ‘Hey the sky outside my flat is suddenly ignoring the laws of light pollution.’ I’d thought you’d cracked after being away from work for so long on top of having the new baby and all. But this... this is incredible. I swear, they aren’t even visible until you get into SoHo. I’ve never seen anything like it. You discovered this, and you’re one of the top minds in the field. Come back to work, Crowley. The science department just isn’t the same without you blasting the teachers lounge with Queen and talking all of our ears off about how much you love your husband.” She sighed nostalgically.

“I don’t know, Mary… It’s just we’ve been so busy with Damien…” Anthony trailed off. As much as he loved Damien and Azira, and he loved them very much, he missed going into work.

“Just think it over, Dr.Crowley.” She asked of him. “Now, I have a family of own to get back to. The sun will be up in a few hours and I still have a class to teach in the morning.” Dr.Woods said as she picked up her instruments and put them back in her minivan. She drove off and soon enough each other scientists and professors began to leave as well. Crowley was left alone on the sidewalk, watching the rising sun. He went back in with two purposes.

1)To sleep

2) To have a very serious discussion in the morning.

A week later, Dr.Crowley went back to work.

………

Adam Young is not the same child across every universe. In this universe, he is, has been, and will be for quite a while the son of Arthur and Deidre Young. In other universes, Adam Young was the merely the name of a misplaced Antichrist. In these other universes, the true owner of the name was renamed Warlock Dowling.

One similarity across every similar universe is that he is being falsely groomed to be a not so tyrannical Antichrist by both and angel and a demon.

Thanks to some demonic temptations and subliminal messages, both Arthur and Deirdre young were similarly gripped by the same urge to go out every weekend without their child, to keep the flame lit. But who to hire for such a task? Luckily, a local college student majoring in early child development named Anna Thema had just posted a personal ad that she was looking to babysit for a criminally cheap rate for the experience and some extra pocket money.

So, when Adam Young was nearly 12 months old, he gained a new babysitter. And an occasional visitor from her classmate Newton Pulsifer for the occasional help with homework.

There was something wrong about this kid, Anathema decided. There was nothing particularly satanic about this child at all. Sure, he’d only truly grow into his power when he turned 11, but by now he should be asserting his dominance over reality for small demonic miracles. She’d been so worried about it one night, she’d failed to notice that her neighborhood had the clearest night sky there had ever been over London since the invention of the lightbulb.

……

Azira Fell was a good husband. Or at least he tried to be. When his spouse said they wanted to go back to work, Azira was going to support them until they retired. But it was hard to raise a child on your own. Even one as sweet as his Damien. Even if Anthony came home every night at 6 or 5 if the workload was light.

Babies are just difficult. Especially if you run a shop that dictates half of your family’s income. One day he’d had an idea. An idea he’d felt rather guilty about. It was tax season, you see. And even though he’d been an English major in Uni, Azira prided himself on the thoroughness of his tax reports. They were so clean and so airtight that the government had more than once sent in investigators.

But, if there’s anything that makes working on tax returns hard, it was a baby. Specifically a baby that had started to walk and talk already. The talking was expected by six months, but according to the books, Damien had picked up walking at an unnaturally early age. He’d been toddling along for about 5 months, yet hadn’t seemed to make much marginal improvement. He was quite prone to running into walls or falling over. And now that he was up and moving and talking, he was always ready to tell his Dad that he wanted to play and while normally Azira loved to play ‘Stack the blocks and thenwatch me knock them over with my favorite stuffed snake like a whip’, these forms usually took all day to get done.

So, the plan was to ask Anathema, who had already been closing down shop every Friday-Sunday on top of her already spotty hours, to watch Damien until either 5, when Anthony got home or until Azira got done.

He scooped up his son off of the floor and took him next door. He rapt his knuckles gently on the door. He waited for a moment and a very haggard looking Anathema came out of the shop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. If this is a bad time for you, I’ll just go.” He said, gesturing with his head back towards the shop.

“Oh! Mr.Fell! It’s alright, stay here. I’ll be just a second.” She closed the door and true to her word, a second later she opened it back up again. Her hair was redone, her light makeup was refreshed and her clothes were straightened and somehow cleaner in a way. Azira was clueless about how this was physically possible, but he’d seen his own wife change the entire shape of her face by moving some hair around and changing the placement of her makeup while he’s had the same haircut since he was in high school, so he’d chalk the entire thing up to him being a clueless man.

“Oh? Who’s this little guy?” Anathema cooed pointedly at his son.

“Anathema, this is my son, Damien!” He said cheerily, excited to finally be able to gush about his son to someone other than the customers and his barber.

“I didn’t know you two adopted.” Anathema told him. It wasn’t like the two had been keeping the little tyke inside for the past 12 months, but she had been rather busy trying to save the world. “How old is the little guy?”

“Oh, almost 13 months now.” Azira said nonchalantly as if he didn’t have it pinned down that Damien was 12 months, 16 days and 14 hours old. “ He’s actually what I came here to ask you about. You see, Anthony, he’s gone back to work recently and I need to do some important paperwork. I was wondering if you could watch him for a few hours while I get caught up on it.” He asked nervously. Anathema was his closest friend outside of Anthony and he really hated to impose on her weekend like this.

“Mr.Fell, I’m honored that you trust me like this!” Anathema began. Azira gave her that bright smile that rivaled even Gabriel’s miracle-whitened smile. “But, I’m going out of town soon to babysit my… godson. Adam.” She said awkwardly and curtly. Azira’s smile dropped a tad and Anathema suddenly felt like she punted a puppy across a football field.

“Oh, well, maybe another time, then?” He chuckled awkwardly.

Before Azira could turn around and go back to his own store, Anathema grabbed his shoulder. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it though! You know, Adam is the exact same age as Damien here. And you know, I’ve heard it’s very important to let children interact with each other at this age. You know, develop social bonds and the like.” She spoke out of her ass. She sounded correct, she thought. And Azira was her closest mortal friend in this century, she didn’t want to lose that. “I was just wondering if you were ok with him being so far away.”

“Well, were does your godson live?” Azira asked.

“Um, lower Tadfield.”

“Tadfield! Lovely little place. Yes, I think he’d be alright there.” Azira sighed in relief.

“Alright, you can just leave him with me and get back to work. I’ll text you the address.”

“Why thank you so much Ms.Anathema. You’re a lifesaver.” He said as he handed the boy over to her. At this point she was quite experienced with holding babies. She waved him off as he went back into his bookshop. She looked at the toddler who looked into her eyes with a deep soul searching-ness not found in most boys his age. “Alright kiddo, how do you feel about being the Antichrist’s first friend?”

30 minutes later Newt showed up in Dick Turpin. The radio was softly playing “Waterloo.” He saw the Angel come out of her store and in her arms was a baby carrier that she’d miracled up.

“Who’s this?” He asked as she shifted the carrier into a baby seat and loaded the child into the back seat of the reliant robin.

“He’s my neighbor’s kid. Name’s Damien.” She told him as she threw herself into the passenger side.

“Those two have a kid?” Newt asked as he pulled into the road. He knew which neighbors she was referring to because her only other neighbor was a little old lady named Mrs.Pope who like to act like she was her name and openly made passive aggressive comments about the nature of Anathema’s shop and once, after seeing Newt stumble out of the building after an all night drinking session, told them they were living in sin.

“I know right?” She replied. “I feel like I should have noticed that.”

“Have I seen that baby before? He looks familiar.” Newt said, suspiciously eying the child.

“All babies kinda look alike, Newt. Let’s talk about the Antichrist now, alright.”

And so. At 12 months, 16 days, and 15 hours old, the Antichrist had a babysitter.

Damien was 6 years old the first time Anathema lost him.

It wasn’t that she just didn’t care about him, it was just that she was rather a tad bit more worried about Adam.

The day had started out as normal as ever. She and Newt picked Adam up from primary school, just like she did every Friday, and took him to see Adam in Tadfield. Every adult involved at the moment, from the Crowley-Fells to the Youngs to the two supernatural beings that watched him every weekend, were under some strange impression that the two children were the best of friends and that every weekend they must see each other, lest they explode.

The truth was simply that the two weren’t the best friends every adult perceived them to be. It wasn’t that either one of them particularly disliked the other, they just weren’t compatible. Damien was always a very mobile child. He was always creating a new game or having a new idea about something to do. Adam was always a bit more introverted, preferring to stay in one place and play on whatever game system was put in his hands. Adam thought Damien was too fast paced for him and Damien thought Adam was boring. It was simple as that. But, Damien’s Dad had always taught him to be nice to everyone, so he never said this aloud.

It was a cool fall day when Damien Crowley-Fell got lost. They’d been at the park and had just picked up Adam from school. (School in Tadfield started and ended 30 minuets later than at the SoHo Parish Primary school where Damien attended.)

The whole thing started with a swing. Adam had reluctantly agreed to come play on the swing set with Damien that day. This park only had one swing set with two swings. On the bench, an angel and a demon were discussing the two boys but mostly the one they thought was the Antichrist.

“I’m still not sure it’s safe for the other kid to be around him so much.” Newt said as he watched the two. Damien was currently trying to achieve every child’s dream of going the full loop while Adam sat there, slightly rocking on his feet and playing on a DS.

“Well, I think it’s good for him. If he has a best friend, perhaps he’ll be a bit more reluctant to destroy the earth.” Anathema shrugged. “Besides, Damien’s parents had plans tonight and they already arranged for him to stay at the Young’s house. We have to drop him back home tonight anyways. I think they’ll be fine.”

They were not fine. While the two of them were playing on the swings a larger 8 year old boy came up to Adam and pushed him out of his swing. Damien leaped off to help his kinda-sorta friend (he had yet to learn the word acquaintance) off of the ground.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Damien yelled at him.

“He wasn’t even swinging!” The other kid pointed out.

“Still, my dads say to ask for permission before you take things from people and that you shouldn’t hurt people!” Damien retorted.

“I don’t care!” The 8 year old finished the argument finally. “Besides, you can’t have two dads! Everyone knows that!” At this point Anathema had noticed the commotion.

“Well I do! Sometimes even I have a dad and a mummy!” Damien had had it explained to him as soon as he was old enough to understand that sometimes his daddy felt like a mummy and therefore was a mummy and sometimes felt like being a daddy and therefore was a daddy. It was a weird concept for a child to understand at first, that someone could be one gender one moment and another the next, but caught on quickly enough.

“That’s not how it works, you liar! My mum and dad told me that you always have to have a mommy and a daddy to have a kid. That’s just wrong!” Now Damien was even angrier. It stung enough to be called a liar, but this new feeling was even nastier. Someone was insulting his parents. Calling them wrong. He felt something dark bubbling to the surface. It was coming up like a bucket with to much water in it. He was about to approach the boy, not caring that he had a whole stone and several centimeters on him. Now, by this point Anathema had risen and was running to the two boys.

“Leave it alone, Damien. Karma will get him anyways.” Adam told him, grabbing him by the upper arm.

“What’s karma?” Damien asked, curiosity being the only piece of scotch tape on top of the crumbling wall holding back his full rage.

“Anna said that it means that it means if your good then good things will happen to you, but if you’re bad, then bad things will happen to you.” Adam glared at the bully, who was fully swinging now. Anathema was in earshot when he said this and was proud that her teachings were rubbing off on him. “And Newton says that bad peoples deserve the worst punishments.” Ok, little less proud now.

“You hear that, jerko? You’re gonna get karma-ed!” Damien yelled at him. Anathema was about to get the boys out of there and usher them to the slide when she saw something behind them that frightened her. The boy was in the height of his backwards arc. All of the sudden, it looked as though something had grabbed a fistful of the bully’s shirt and took a hard yank down and out. The boy hit the pebbles that made up the floor of the playground hard. He landed face first and when he came up, his nose was swollen and his face was covered in small scratches. His hand was over his mouth. Anathema watched in horror as the child pulled his hands away, covered in blood and holding his front 4 baby teeth.

The Antichrist had claimed his first victim.

Oh my god, she’d let him hurt another child. She taught him about karma and then Newt has to mess it up with his demon-ness. And now he’d hurt a child. Granted he was a real jerk. No! He’s still a child! She was such a bad angel.

“Adam? What did you do?” She said without thinking.

“I don’t know what you mean Anna.” Adam tried to explain. “He just fell, I didn’t do anything to him.”

Anathema knelt to his level. “Please Adam. I need you tell me if you did something.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Adam protested

Meanwhile Damien stood there in open mouth shock. He felt that dark feeling start to simmer down now. He knew logically that there was no way that this was his fault. But something deep down was that wasn’t true. That he wanted it and so the universe did as he said. So he did what was logical to a 6 year old little boy.

He ran.

Anathema had let go of Adam now and was looking over the other child’s injuries. “There,no broken bones, clean skin, no blood.” Instantly, the large boy started to repair himself. He ran away crying. She scooped up Adam and ran to Newt, who was currently being cussed by the boy’s mother. Newt side eyed her with a look of pleading. Anathema snapped her fingers and the woman froze.

“You will take home your son and rethink your choices as a parent.” She told the irate mum.

“I will take my son home and rethink my choices as a parent.” She droned as she walked off

“Newt, we need to go. NOW!” Anathema ordered. Newt nodded in agreement and the duo ran off to Dick Turpin. She clicked Adam into his car seat and quickly got into the passenger seat next to Newt who took off.

“Did you see-“ she began.

“Uh huh.” Newt nodded. “Not a good sign, huh?”

“Probably not.” She now whispered back. She leaned in. “Adam always seemed like such a nice kid, I can’t believe he’d do that to that boy.”

“Maybe,” Newt whispers back, “the Antichrist is just inherently evil. Like genetically.”

“Nonsense. No one is born evil. At least now we know he’s the real deal. Listen, we just need now to… creatively reconstruct this power into something more… good.” Anathema chided

Suddenly a loud sniffle came from the backseat. “It’s not fair! I told you I didn’t do it! How come Damien got to stay at the park and I gotta go home!”

The car’s breaks slammed. The angel and the demon looked at each other with a new kind of horror.

~THE PARK~

Damien was running. He was mentally going over his options as a runaway now. He didn’t have any food or any water. He’d have to get a job. But Daddy always told him that he had to get a good education to get a good job. And he was a teacher! So he couldn’t be wrong! So he just had to find a school!

Sure enough, the next few steps he took, he wandered through a hedge that normally would have led into the backyard of a little house called the Jasmine Cottage, that would have a great deal of significance in 5 years. But it wasn’t a place necessary to the plot of his life right now and this hedge instead led to the lot outside of the local primary school. It was a playground, not to dissimilar from the one he just ran from. This playground was filled with children waiting on their parents to pick them up however.

He knew he needed someone smart to help him if he was gonna get a good education and get a good job. He spotted a smaller boy in glasses looking closely at the dirt in front of him. He looked smart! (The boy was only of slightly above average intellect, but he wore glasses. And Damien’s dad wore reading glasses and his daddy wore dark sunglasses all of time, and they were the smartest people Adam knew.)

He cautiously approached him. He stood over the bespectacled boy now. “Is the school open yet?” Damien asked.

“Well, no. It’s Friday and school let out a bit ago. It won’t be open again until Monday morning.” The kid in the glasses explained. He got a better look at the new comer, who pouted and plopped down next to him. “Are you a new kid?” He asked

“No, I live in London.” This interloper explained. “I’m Damien.” He extended his hand. His dad had taught him it was what civilized people did when they met each other.

“Hello Adam, my name is-“ a loud truck drove by “ - Wensleydale. But everyone calls me Wensleydale.” Reached out and shook Damien’s hand. “If you don’t live here, why do you want in the school?”

“I need to get a good education so I can get a good job.” Damien left out the other bits.

“Oh. Well I’m planting these seeds I got in science class.” Wensleydale held out the cup he’d been holding in his hand which held several seeds. “Maybe when they grow into carrots, we can sell them and make money that way.”

“Hmmm... how many carrots do you need to sell to buy a house?” Damien asked. He’d need a house if he lived on his own.

“Probably a lot.” Wensleydale replied as he planted the last of the seeds. “Now we need to get some water for them. Damien, watch the seeds, I’ll go get the water.”

Soon Wensleydale returned, cup full of water and dumped it on the dirt evenly, creating a nice puddle of mud.

“Now what?” Asked Damien.

“Now, we wait.” Wensleydale told him. “Ms.Gomez says that it takes time for plants to grow big.”

The two sat there watching the slowly drying puddle of mud. And where there was mud, Brian appeared. The boy was taller than the two of them, but lean as a stick. He also hadn’t quite grown into his face and ears yet.

“Is that mud?” Brian asked. Brian loved mud. It was currently ranking number one on his list of favorite things. “I’m Brian.” He tacked on at the end.

“I’m Wensleydale and this is Damien. He’s from London.” Wensleydale refereed to his new friend. “We’re growing carrots so we can sell them and buy a house.”

“Wicked!” Brian exclaimed. “Ooh! You’re going to need worms.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out several words he’d been collecting in other mud puddles today. “My dad says that worms are good for gardens. Hey, if I give you guys my worms, can I live in the house you buy with you?” Brian asked.

“Sure, welcome to the team!” Damien stuck out his hand again and Brian shook it with his (worm free) hand.

“Now what?” Brian asked as he also crouched down to watch the mud.

“We’re waiting on it to grow.” Damien explained.

And so the three of them sat and watched the now damp and worm filled mud.

Then another guest appeared. A girl now.

“What’re you three doing?” She asked. Even in her multicolored romper and glittery rain boots, she still held an intimidating stance.

The three turned to her.

“We’re growing carrots and then we’re going to by a house with it.” Damien explained.

“Of course you are.” She huffed. “My mummy told me that just about all of the world’s resources are controlled by white males.”

Damien considered this for a moment. “Well, you aren’t white or a male. Why don’t you join us then. You can be a partner and then when we buy a house together, you can live with us too.”

The girl briefly considered it. “That sounds like a commune.” She stated simply.

“What’s that?” Brian asked.

“Mummy says it’s when a whole bunch of people all live together and share everything.” She explained.

“Is it a bad thing?” Wensleydale asked.

“Well,” she went on, “She never really did say.”

“But is that a no?” Damien asked finally.

“It’s most definitely not a no.” She said finally.

“Alright then!” Damien smiled. “I’m Damien!” He shook her hand.

“I’m Wensleydale!” Wensleydale shook her hand too

“And I’m Brian!” The girl respectfully declined a handshake from him.

“My name is…” a red tint crossed her brown cheeks. “Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. I know it’s a silly name and if you dare laugh at it I’ll beat the tar out of you!” She hastily said.

“I don’t think it’s silly at all!” Damien said, much to Brian and Wensleydale (who thought it was a very silly name)’s surprise. “It sounds like the names of one of the characters in one of the books Dad reads to me. The Lord of The Rings! I’d show it to you but it’s at home. And also, if you don’t like your name, you can always change it.” He shrugged.

“You can… change your name?” Pippin looked at him like he’d just told her the universe’s most well guarded secret.

“Yeah. My Daddy changes his name all the time. “Sometimes his name is Anthony and sometimes her name is Ashtoreth. It all depends on if he feels like being daddy or mummy.”

“Wow! You can do that?! In that case my name is…” she thought for a moment “Pepper! My name is Pepper!” Pepper declared.

“Alright then Pepper! Welcome to the team!”

“How long are you guys planning on waiting on those carrots?” Pepper asked.

“Until they grow.” Wensleydale told her.

“That’s dumb.” Pepper said. “It’s supposed to take months for any kind of plant to grow.”

“Oh.” Damien flopped on his back dejectedly. Then he bolted back up again. “We can play a game while we wait!”

“Like what?” Brian asked him.

“How about… pirates!” Damien suggested eagerly. The idea roused the spirits of all 4 of the 6-year-olds. Soon enough memories of bullies and karma were written over.

By 20 minutes later all of their parents had arrived, but made no moves to stop the playing. They were happy that their usually socially outcasted children had found friends. Usually, Wensleydale was too meek and introverted, Pepper was too loud and aggressive, and Brian was too… Brian, but somehow this new stranger from the big city had brought them all together.

~THE PARK~

On the other side of town, two immortals were proving that wisdom did not come with age. Anathema, Principality and the Angel of the Eastern Gate was about to have a breakdown. Now, statistically, Tadfield hadn’t had a single major crime since 1981. But statistically, they had also had 0 Antichrists until 2008. (Note that this statistic was in fact the result of a clerical error and would be resolved in 2019.)

She was supposed to be a nearly almighty being, rivaled in power only by God and Satan and one day the Antichrist. Adam was currently with Newt, the two of them had split off in an effort to cover more ground to recover the lost child. Newt didn’t find Damien Crowley-Fell in that park but he did find a weeping angel sitting on the bench where they’d been sitting a half hour ago, in front of the swings.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” He said, awkwardly patting her on top of the head.

“Good lord, I’m the absolute worst angel on the planet. It all started when I gave away the damn sword. Next thing I know I’ve started fraternizing with demons. Then I couldn’t keep Adam from hurting that kid and now I can’t find one stinking human child! I’m an angel! I’m meant to be perfect! If the world doesn’t end first, I’m going to fall.”

“Ana. You’re not going to fall.” Newt said seriously. “I’d sooner tear up all of Hell so you wouldn’t have anywhere to fall to. You’re trying your best. There’s never been a precedent for this. Remember how many times these little humans tried and failed to fly. We both thought it couldn’t be done. Then one day we’re shaking hands with those Write fellows who are showing us that they’d done it! And look at them now! Breaking sound barriers and going to the moon! This is just our flight, Ana.”

“Holy shit, Newt.”

“I know it’s really sappy and if you tell anyone-“

“No! Not that, lizard brain! But it was very lovely and I thank you for the pep talk. I mean I just remembered. We have like, actual magic.”

“Oh my- BLESS IT! We are so bloody stupid.” Newt groans into his hands.

“Okay. I just gotta feel for him. I need quiet here.” Anathema told him.

She closed her eyes and focused in on Damien. It was very difficult. It was almost like he had no aura. She’d never noticed that before. But eventually she got him. “Okay, we need to go back to Adam’s school. Go go go!” She ushered him and Adam into the car.

~TADFIELD PRIMARY SCHOOL~

The three tires squealed to a halt in front of the school. Sure enough, 4 children were playing in the small playground in front of the building. Anathema ejected herself quickly from the car. She was nearly approached by the neighborhood watch, an elderly gent by the name of RP Tyler who was ready to get onto her for the reckless driving in a school zone. He was stopped by the demon following her. Tyler promptly forgot what made him mad and turned around, dog in tow.

“Damien!” Anathema yelled frantically, causing all of the people left at the school (a total of 4 children and 5 adults) to turn their heads to look at her.

“Is that your mum? The one who’s your dad, too?” Asked Brian, who was pretty bummed at the game being interrupted.

“No, that’s my babysitter. My parents are still in London.” Adam explained. “Anna! Hi!” He yelled. He ran to her and his new posse followed him. She ran to meet him and wrapped her armsaround him.

“Oh my gosh! I’m sosososos sorry, kiddo!” She nearly weeped. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Anna… you’re crushing me though.” Damien told her. She loosened her grip. “I even made some new friends.” He continued excitedly breaking out of her grip.

At this point, Newt has caught up now, Adam in tow.

“This is Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale!” Damien said, referring to the group behind him.

“That’s very nice, but we have to go now.” Newt urged, he let go of Adam’s hand and knelt to Damien’s level. “Listen, if you don’t mention this whole thing to your parents, we will buy you ice cream.”

Damien considered this. He didn’t even know why he was being bribed, but like Mummy always said, ‘if you have the advantage, use it.’ (Granted, this was when she blue-shelled his Dad in Mario Kart and not about negotiating bribery to keep mum about child endangerment; but I digress.) “only if they can come.” He pointed to the kids behind him, who were very hopeful at the idea of both spending more time with their new friends and the prospect of ice cream.

“Alright, “ he groaned. “We need to ask their parents first, though.” He chided. They would agree, whether they liked it or not.

By the time the ice cream bribery extravaganza was over, numbers has been exchanged and friendships had been forged and everyone was happy. Adam was happy that Damien had someone other than him to play with. Damien was happy to have friends that appreciated his games and ideas. The parents of the kids were happy that their kids had friends. Anathema and Newt were happy that

1) They weren’t getting saddled with child endangerment charges and a lawsuit from the Crowley-Fells.

2) They had finally gotten Damien away from the (apparently violent) Antichrist.

It was decidedly a good day.

It was 12 pm when Damien was taken home.

His Dad was wearing his nice suit and his Daddy was wearing his favorite dress and sunglasses combination. He was pretending to be asleep (it wasn’t very hard.) and Newton had carried him in the front door of the store. Him and Ana were talking to his parents.

“Oh, thank you so much for taking him tonight. We had the most wonderful anniversary dinner tonight.” Dad cooed. “I trust he wasn’t too much trouble was he.”

“NO!” His babysitters yelled in tandem.

“I mean- It’s no problem at all! You know how much I love the kid! I practically consider him my nephew!” Ananthema hastily said.

“All right, kid. You can stop pretending and let Newton put you down now.” Damien heard his daddy say. He warily raised his head off of Newton’s shoulder.

“How’d you know?” He slurred.

“You pull that same trick every time we come home late. Now, down you go.” Anthony said, taking him down from Newt’s arms. “Now, head up to bed young man and we’ll check in on you later.” Anthony kissed his son on the head and pat him on the back in the direction of the stairs.

10 minutes later, Azira and Anthony, true to their word, found their way into their son’s room. His nightlight was on, projecting stars onto his walls, accompanying the ones on his ceiling. The stars outside were still as bright as they became 5 years ago. It still puzzled astronomers from all over the country, but it was determined that the atmosphere above SoHo was still the same and the stars were still the same brightness from every other angle.

The two were dressed in comfortable pajamas now. They sat at the foot of the bed, where Damien was still awake.

“How was Tadfield, Damien?” Azira asked him.

“It was great!” Damien exclaimed, “I met a bunch of new kids! And next time we go, I’m gonna play with them again!”

“That’s wonderful.” Azira smiles at him.

“But there was this one kid that said something that made me mad.” Damien admitted

“And what’s that?” Anthony asked concernedly.

“He said that I couldn’t have two dads and called me a liar when he said that I did sometimes.”

“Oh dear.” Azira said and he felt Anthony’s hand tighten around his own. They should have expected this with a small town like Tadfield.

“Yeah, and then he told me that to have a kid, you have to have a mum and a dad! And then I told him that I have a mom sometimes and he got mad at me again and told me that it’s always supposed to be a mum and a dad to have one. And he called me the liar, you guys had me just fine!” Damien huffed.

“Um, kid, me and Dad need to talk about something in the hall for a hot sec, we’ll be right back in.” Anthony said, grabbing his husband by the hand and racing into the hall. They closed the door behind them.

“Okay. How we respond to this is very important.” Azira said uncomfortably

“Oh my god, the parenting books didn’t have a section on ‘How to handle your child’s first exposure to homophobia as well as some light transphobia and also explain that he’s technically adopted.”

“I know dear!” Azira looked at the door.

“We just need to go in there, Angel, be honest and straightforward, but not go to hard onto the hard truths.” Anthony said.

“Your right, my dear.” Azira sighed. “I don’t suppose we can hold off on the conversation forever.”

The came back in. Damien was still awake.

“Okay, Damien, you need to know that what that kid said was not only wrong, but also very very rude.” Azira started off. “No child should ever make you feel bad about who your parents are.”

“And if they ever do again, I give you full permission to kick their butts.” Anthony cut in.

“Anthony no! Damien, do not kick their… butts. You do come to me and daddy and we’ll deal with it all right.”

“Alright, Dad.”

“And about the second part. Not every person who has a baby is precisely a… Well a woman. We’ll get into that whole conversation when your older don’t worry.” Anthony told him. “But, even though I’m a woman sometimes, me and your dad… can’t have children together.”

“But you have me.” Damien said confusedly.

“I know, and we love you so very much.” Azira interjected

“Well, originally, some other man and woman got pregnant with you and when you were born, they decided that we were the best people to raise you.” Anthony continued.

Damien looked shell shocked. “So that means… you’re not my parents?” He squeaked in a small voice.

“No!” They yelled together

“I mean- yes we are actually your parents. And like I said, we love you so very much. The people who you are born to aren’t necessary the people that you call family. No matter what anyone says, we are your parents and no matter what, you’ll always be our son.” Azira told his son, putting a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, okay. I love you guys too.” Damien said and for a brief moment, the two felt relief. “But, why didn’t they want me? Who were they.” And then the relief was gone.

“Well, we never met them.” Anthony admitted. “The nunnery we adopted you from told us that the family wished to remain anonymous.”

“But! I’m sure they were lovely people. They just knew that they couldn’t give you the best life they could. They knew you deserved better. And we wanted a baby more than anything, so it worked out. Does this all make sense to you?” Azira cut in again

“I guess I do…” Damien said, a little unsure of the whole situation.

“How ‘bout we do something fun tomorrow? As a family. Just me, Dad, and you? How does that sound, Damien.” Anthony nervously asked

“Can we go to the planetarium again?” Damien requested, feeling his eyes grow heavy.

“Anything you want, kid.” Anthony said, placing a light kiss on top of Damien’s blond curls. Then Azira joined in as well.

“G’night.” Damien slurred.

“Goodnight, my dear boy.” Azira said as he carefully rose from the bed.

“‘Night, Damien.” Anthony said, using his husband’s arm as an anchor to pull himself off the bed.

They went back to their room in silence. They laid down and stared at each other.

“Do you think we handled that okay?” Azira asked, running a soft finger over the snake tattooed on his spouse’s sideburn.

“I think we did pretty okay for a conversation I personally thought we’d never have. I always just assumed that he’d just piece it together on his own one day.”

“Oh fate is rarely so kind.”

“But it’s like you said, we’ll always be his parents and he’ll always be our son. Now, I’m going to bed. This entire conversation has completely drained my batteries.”

“Good night Dear.”

“Good night Angel.”

That night, the small family slept a bit sounder.

>5 YEARS UNTIL THE APOCALYPSE<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls leave kudos and comments! I love them comments! They inspire me to keep going! Also find me on tumblr at @space-is-out-there!


	5. Let’s do the time warp! Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one about meetings and how friendships/rivalries are founded.

Contrary to what popular band Led Zeppelin would have you believe, there were no stairways to Heaven. There was however, an escalator. Anathema stood nervously at the base. She wiped her sweaty palms on the flannel of her turquoise overcoat. She looked at her friend as he stood to the base of a much different escalator.

Well. Different in the metaphysical sense. In the plain old physical sense, both elevators led to the second story of the company headquarters for a business that produces paperclips.

“Time to head in.” Newt told her nervously.

“I guess so. St.James in an hour and a half?” Anathema replied.

“See you then, Ana.” He said as he took a step forward and started to descend.

Anathema took a step forward and started to ascend. She felt her physical body melt away. (Not literally, it was just put into celestial storage. It would take a lot of paperwork if Angels had to file new paperwork for a new vessel every time they went back to Earth.) Her clothes lost their color and became the stark beige and white of Heaven. At least her gold jewelry remained untouched, there would be a riot if the Angels all suddenly were no longer allowed to wear their gold accessories, the only individualistic part of the near uniform heavenly variety of suits. Her wings involuntarily manifested behind her as she was refilled at the source with holy energies. (Not that she could run out, but it was like putting a phone with 100% battery on a charger.) She quickly discorporated the shimmering hummingbird wings into her back. It was considered both a sign of aggression and a sign of intimacy, based on the context of the interaction of course, to have your wings out around another angel; and as much as Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, and Sandalphon were up in her business, she didn’t feel that emotionally bonded with the archangels.

It was a beautiful day in heaven. All of the days in Heaven were nice. Always. Anathema found it a little boring. No variety, no snow, no cute umbrellas or galoshes. No need for it when you could merely miracle the plants to stay water (or have a low-ranked angel put on gardener duty.) Anathema was finally at the top of the elevator. She saw, standing in the middle of the hallway, the four archangels.

‘Would it kill them to show some common courtesy and meet ME at the top of the escalator for once?’ Anathema thought to herself as she picked up her skirts to meet them.

“Tell me,” Michael requested as Anathema drew near. “Why do you even bother wearing those ridiculous skirts when pants are so much more practical?”

“Well, they’re pretty and-“ She looked at the dissatisfied look on Michael’s face “you know how humans are. Still so caught up on that silly concept of gender, I’m just trying to blend in.”

“Of course you are.” Uriel responded coldly.

“On to the matter at hand.” Gabriel steered the conversation now, “tell us about your progress with the Antichrist.”

“Well.” Anathema twisted her bracelets around her arm. “I’m proud to report that the Antichrist is growing into a sweet young boy, steered clear away from terrible demonic influences.”

“Well done, Anathema.” Gabriel clapped and the rest of the angels followed suit. “Carrying out the work of Heaven as always.”

“Of course.” Michael lilted after the applause, “When you fail, we will not hold it against you.”

“When I fail.” Anathema asked for confirmation, if the tinges of anger betrayed her cool, calm, collected demeanor, the Archangels said nothing of it.

“Your efforts are valiant, but one day the great plan will commence. Heaven will triumph over Hell. Well, I suppose a benevolent Antichrist would be a bit of help to our side. But it is written that when the boy turns 11, he will give into his… genetic instincts.”Gabriel answered.

“Genetic instincts? No one is born evil, especially not this kid. Besides, we’re angels! Aren’t we supposed to be all about forgiveness and redemption?” Anathema pleaded for them to understand.

“Please Anathema, you’ve been on earth a while. A shark can not be raised to have the same life as a dolphin, no matter how similar they may look at a glance. Eventually the shark will get hungry for blood and do what it does best. Kill.” Uriel expanded on the argument. “That boy may look human, but never forget what he truly is.”

“I- I won’t.” Anathema dejectedly stared at her boots.

“Okay, if that’s all, I say we call this meeting to a close.” Michael concluded. “Have a blessed day.” They walked off.

“Have a blessed day.” Sandalphon told her, smiling with that stupid grill he’d gotten when he’d come to Earth in the 90’s on a routine inspection. Newt had bet her a round at the pub that she couldn’t convince him it was a good idea to get one. Unfortunately, the trend had caught on with a few of the younger angels, and now a sizable percentage of Heaven’s population sported golden dental accessories.

“Have a blessed day.” Uriel rushed past her, not making eye contact.

“Have a blessed day, Anathema.” Gabriel leered at her. “See you up here again in say, five years?”

She walked as he stalked off and she made her way back down the escalator and she wondered how Newt was doing.

Newt stood before Beelzebub, Dagon, and Hastur and Ligur.

“How hazzz the Antichrist been developing?” The prince of hell and lord of the flies asked lazily, slouching in a manner that would give Dr.Crowley a run for their money.

“Oh! Excellent! Great little tyke he is.” Newt rocked on his feet.

“Excellent is not what we are looking for.” Dagon snapped.

“Did I say excellent? I mean terrible, absolutely terrible little ankle biter.” Newt recovered

not so smoothly.

“Ah, I zzee.” Beelzebub stroked their chin. “And what of hizzz powerzz. Hazzz he started bending those around him to hizz will?”

“I am -er proud to report that he has already claimed his first victim. Some little prat thought he could push around the son of our dark lord Satan. Well, I watched our boy prove that little sucker wrong.”

Ligur loved torture and leaned forward with interest. “Ah, what was the young Prince’s punishment? Decapitation? Eternal bleeding sores? Being stuck in a hellish existence where every time he shuts his eyes, he is confronted with visions of the gruesome deaths and torments of his loved ones?” He listed off his favorite pass times.

“Well, no.”

“Then what?” Ligur demanded hungrily.

“Well now, I’m embarrassed to say.” Newt blushes. “He pulled a kid face forward off of the playground swings. Lots of blood though! Missing teeth, broken nose, public humiliation, whole nine yards.”

“Oh.” Ligur leaned back unsatisfactorily.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what the brat’s like now, does it? Once he gets the hell hound when he turns 11, it’s all going to fall into place regardless, innit?” Hastur shrugged and leaned back.

“Well said, Hastur.” Dagon chided.

“‘M sorry, ‘d you just say hell hound? You’d think that’d be a little bit dangerous to be around the future dictator of earth.” Newt asked.

“Oh yeah, best hell hound we’ve got. Been specially breeding them for years to get the perfect pooch, fit for a king. Like the queen’s corgis. When the child names the hound, it will become whatever he wants it to be. Throat-Ripper, Spine-Eater, Hunter, traditional names like that. It’ll be his constant companion and will protect him.” Hastur explained smugly. It was no secret that he was renowned in Hell as one of the top pedigree hell hound breeders. It was the closest thing to a real non-torture related hobby that any demon in Hell had. (Well, besides Newt, who had taken up knitting in Egypt at the beginning of the first millennium. He’d made a rather comfortable pair of blue and white cotton socks that he unfortunately lost sometime around the 14th century)

“Sounds Great with a capital G!” Newt gave a forced smile with a thumbs up. He’d have to remember that to tell Ana later.

“Now, be gone, Lizzzard Boy. Continue to make zzzure that nothing ruinzzz our great plan.” Beelzebub waved him away and he hastily bowed and scuttled off.

“You trust ‘im, Ligur?” Hastur asked his fellow duke.

“Of course not. It’d be a funny world if demons went ‘round trusting each other.” Ligur conferred.

“ ‘swhat I thought.” Hastur snarled at the bespectacled demon’s retreating form.

Said demon was retreating to Saint James Park. It was where his best and oldest friend was waiting.

After the wall, it took approximately 130 years to meet again. The first murder had just occurred. Anathema was clutching her shaking fists as she stood over the grave of Abel. She’d given away her flaming sword to ensure that he and his brother (his killer) would one day be born. She would occasionally come down from the wall to check up on the family.

God had been merciful when she spared the couple, yet the two had been set up to fail. Unless Anathema had given them the sword, they never would have survived a mile outside of the safe walls. She’d been the one to share the secrets of tilling the Earth; the humans had been designed to live in private garden, not to farm in the hot sun, and thus had no knowledge of how to grow their own food. Abel had surprised her himself when he’d shown her how he’d learned to domesticate and raise animals all on his own. He’d explained to her how much easier it had been on them not to have to go out for hours at a time in search of food. Humans were so much more clever than she’d ever imagined.

And so much more malice than she could understand.

She’d never had any siblings as it were. The angels and demons weren’t created that way. Yet for as much imagining as she could muster, she could not imagine having one just to murder them in cold blood.

She knew humans can die. Do die. Have died. But it just felt so soon. To early. 122 years was barely even a fraction of her long, immortal life.

So here she stood, on the verge of tears over a fresh grave. The first of many from here on out. She was alone, until she wasn’t. The soft crunch of dirt alerted her to a new presence. She looked beside herself, fully expecting to see one of Abel’s grief stricken family members. Instead she was looking into gold and red eyes.

“Come to admire the handiwork, haven’t you?” Anathema spat.

“Down girl, I’m just paying respects.” Newt tried to pacify.

“Respect.” Anathema’s voice still held no warmth as it warbled. “If you had any respect, you wouldn’t be here, Demon. I bet you tempted Cain into this, didn’t you? The first sin just wasn’t enough for you. You just had to invent a new one, didn’t you?” Anathema coldly interrogated.

“What? No! I wish I could take credit here, but this one would be all on Cain. Free will is tricky like that.” Newt explained.

“This would never had happened if it weren’t for you.” Anathema huffed. “They’d still be in the garden, I’d still be up in Heaven, and I’d never have gotten involved with these little monkeys.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t have to get involved. It was your choice to get attached to them.”

“My mistake, you mean.” Tears started to leak down her face. “I was stupid to think I could love them unscathed. Compared to us, they’re just candles in the rain. I should just go back to my wall, you know? It would be so easy to just go back and guard the garden and never think about them again.”

“You won’t.” Newt said simply.

“Your right, and that’s the sad thing. Every time I go back to them and check out their progress, they draw me in a little more. The first time I went to see them, they’d created huts! Little shacks with fences. Then they were learning to make swords like the one I gave them and they’d learnedhow to make jewelry. It was clunky and messy, but they were so proud of it, Newt! Then Abel figured out how to be an animal farmer. I never even considered that as a possibility! They’re so, so clever, yet so, so temporary. It’s not fair.”She quietly croaked.

“Careful, keep that up and you’ll end up swimming in sulfur.” Anathema glared at him. “If you want, I can leave you alone. Let us both grieve in piece.”Newt backed away awkwardly.

“Please, stay.” Anathema quietly pleaded. “I don’t think this is something you’re supposed to experience alone, even if you are a demon.”

“Alright.”

The next time they met it is in front of a boat. It would be more accurate to call it an Ark, though. It’s been 900-ish years since the two had seen each other. Anathema stood before the ark with furrowed brows. Storm clouds built in the distance. They reminded her of her first day on the job, and the large wing that had shielded her from the rain. It was fitting, seeing as how today was her last day as well. God had come down and been very keen to tell her all about Her new plan. It would be a flood, more massive than anything. The garden would end up and the bottom of the now risen sea. (God in those days had much more employer-employee interaction.) Thus, there would no longer be any need for her to guard the walls.

The angels of the northern, western, and southern gates were all too ready to go back to Heaven and collect on their overtime after over a thousand years of being on Earth. Uriel of the main gate (the southern gate) desperately wanted a million showers to wash away the stink of sin, and apparently had several big ideas about promotions and climbing the corporate stairway. Anathema, however, didn’t want to leave. She’d grown quite attached to the little rock after a thousand years.

This was probably because she was the only one of the guardians to ever get down from the high wall and interact with humanity. At first it had been out of a sense of obligation. Then a sense of protection. Then it became a sense of admiration. Oh these humans were so clever! They’d invented the wheel! And recently one of them had somehow invented this thing called cheese, purely by accident! And now, they (at least the locals) were about to be drowned, their lives and legacies lost to the world, alongside the garden where they originated.

Anathema stood behind fences as she watched the lucky animals get ushered onto the large Ark. She felt a tap on her right shoulder and when she looked over it, she heard a voice on her left say, “Anathema! Long time no see!”

She turned to see red and gold eyes staring intently into her black ones. “Newt! What brings you here?”

“I just saw a bunch of animals, thought, ‘Ooh, that looks interesting.’ And here I am.” He shrugged. “What’s all this anyways? Traveling zoo?”

“If you must know, it’s an ark. Noah has been tasked with the Devine purpose of saving all life on Earth so that each species may continue after the Earth is flooded.”

“Oh I se- Wait?! Flooded?! Why?!” Newt borderline yelped, only to have his mouth covered by the black eyed angel before him.

“The locals and God, they’ve had a bit of a disagreement. So, she’s finally committing to a clean slate.”

“What? Just because she’s upset she’s gonna kill everyone? Well, I guess she did kick half of Heaven’s population out… but I thought she was fond of the life on earth? What about all of the other animals? And the kids? Those kids can’t be irredeemable.”

“Well. She’s going to promise not to do it again! And to seal the promise, she’s created this thing called a ‘rain-bow’. I’ve heard it’s quite pretty. Shame I won’t get to see it.” Anathema sighed wistfully.

“Oh yeah. Those corpses are going to be so pleased with the aesthetics. Wait. What do you mean you’re not going to see it?” Newt startled

“Once the flood comes, the garden is going to be underwater. No need for a guardian principality to be guarding something that doesn’t need guarding anymore. I’m going to be sent back home.” Anathema frowned.

“Well… what if you were needed here?” Newt asked.

“But I’m not.” Anathema restated confusedly.

“What if you were say… thwarting a wily demon corrupting humanity?” He asked.

“Well, that depends. Do you know of any?” She teased.

“Haha, very funny. What if I told you that I’ve snuck all of the village children onto the ark.” Newt snapped his fingers. “Clearly, now that they’re going to live on, they’re going to corrupt the bloodline She chose to continue the human race from. And all of those extra children, all of those humans with no one to guide them. Easy pickings for a demon such as myself.”

“Well clearly, humanity will be in need of a little guidance towards the light.” Anathema caught on.

“Though, truly the darkness of Hell will win out in the end.” Newt goaded.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Anathema recited like a hero in a Shakespeare play. (Not that she new that was how she was acting or even who Shakespeare was in the moment.) “I shall have to report this demonic plan to my head office at once! And since I was the one who uncovered this foul plot, it should obviously be I who derails it.”

Newt gave a crooked smile and held out a hand.“Enemies?”

“Enemies.” Anathema confirmed with a firm handshake.

It turned out that Anathema (former Guardian of the Eastern Gate, current Guardian Principality of children) thought that, yes, rainbows were indeed beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More historical context in the next chapter! What are some events you’d like to see? Tell me and I may add it! Be sure to leave comments and kudos and to make sure you get that part 2, subscribe!


	6. Lets do the time warp! Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we follow two immortals throughout history and witness the meeting of two human soulmates. Also, in which I cry going over historical documents in the name of fanfic. I intend to EARN my history doctorate.

The two occult beings would, of course, find each other again. And again. And again.

And they would thwart each other again. And again. And once again.

It was a beautiful cycle of ineffable fate and pure happenstance. In Sumeria, Anathema found her enemy co-running a copper business with a business partner by the name of Ea’ Nassir. 

Then it was Newt who found his angelic counterpart in Rome, sent to guide the locals away from their sinful ways. (She was also decidedly more masculine at the time. An unfortunate necessity in the male-dominated space of Ancient Rome. A shame, Anathema had later decided, because women’s clothing was becoming much more fun and colorful than it had ever been before.) it was a lovely March night; Julius Caesar had just returned victorious from a battle in a far off land and all of the locals were in high spirits for a large festival in his honor. The two ran into each other in the crowd as Marc Anthony approached Caesar with a beautiful crown. They caught up for a while and decided to grab a bite to eat. On the way there, they found a young teen being mugged in a nighttime-darkened alleyway. Anathema had taken it upon himself to swiftly deliver Heaven-sent justice upon the thief. Anathema, although definitely much more of a pacifist than most of Heaven’s population, was still a Principality and a member of Heaven’s army. He swiftly disarmed the mugger and took the knife from them. By the time the mugger had scrammed, and the teen had thanked her profusely, the angel and the demon were left with the weapon.

“What do we do with that?” Newt asked his companion.

“Hmmm, I feel it’s only proper that we turn it into the proper authorities.” Anathema supplied.

Right on cue, a pair of men walked by the two in the perpendicular alley. Anathema recognized the two as Brutus and Cassius, two of Caesar's most trusted men. They were speaking in hushed tones. Clearly important business, the demon and angel decided. Surely these two counted as proper authorities. Anathema picked up the hems of his tunic and ran towards the men. Newt watched at a distance as they spoke and Brutus eagerly took the knife from his companion. Anathema proudly went back to him, proud of his good deed. 

“I’m sure he’ll deal with the weapon accordingly.” Anathema declares proudly.

“Oh, I bet.”

~538 AD, Camlann, Wales~

A lone horse rode over a barren and scarred battlefield. There was once a grassy plane here. Now it was destroyed, reduced to trampled dirt and boot stamped mud. For what? A war that got proved nothing but who could shed the most senseless blood? A contest of destruction? A competition to see who could bring about their end the fastest in the name of their side? The rider looks in disgust as she rides among the wasteland of crow-picked corpses. She mutters a silent prayer that beckons their souls to have safe passage to the pearly gates. She occasionally stops to look over a wounded soldier, barely clinging to life. She heals to the best of her angelic abilities (which is to say, just short of completely.) and continues to ride on towards the west end of the field where the sun is setting over the tall pines that frame the desecrated field.. She approaches a large cluster of tents of war and makes her way to the largest, center most tent. She hitches the horse and makes her way inside. Normally, the two very large and aggressive guards out front would stop her from entering, but she miraculously went unnoticed. She saw a man in a regal cape hunched over a large map of the country with little flags and figurines scattered about. He may have had his back turned to her, but his wild brown locks, that he was currently carding his fingers through nervously, was a telltale sign of his identity. 

“Hello, Newt. Or I suppose, Mordred, rather. That’s what you’re calling yourself these days, isn’t it?” She startled him.

He turned to her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His gold eyes were frantic. He was clothed in dark iron armor that somehow resembled the wings of a dragon at the hinges.

“Anathema?!” He exclaimed in surprise as he loosened up. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I hadn’t heard from you in a while and I got worried. Then I got wind of the Traitorous Sir Mordred. And well, let’s just say some descriptions lined up. And here I am.” She plainly announced.

“Descriptions?” Newt asked curiously.

“Oh you know, eyes that shine gold and red with the fire of Hell behind them, a head taller than the average man. Claims to be Mordred, Son of King Lot, who I know for a fact died of food poisoning years ago. You know, you probably should start finding ways to cover up those eyes of yours, you know, before the humans figure out what you really are.”

“So, why are you here? I’m clearly pretty busy here.” He waved a hand towards the war tent.

“Well, it seems that Upstairs has caught word of you, ‘Prince Mordred’. I was sent to quote ‘convert you back to the side of good.’” She laughed softly. “I actually thought that you were tempting him at first until I remembered that he’s been dead for years.”

Newt flopped dramatically onto a large chair. He looked exhausted. “Oh thank Satan. I’m so tired, Anathema.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m tired! It’s just one battle after the next, constant scheming, having to narrowly avoid discorporation every time I get out there. I don’t even know how to use a sword! Do you know how hard it is to explain to a hundred men how, even though they saw me get stabbed, ‘I’m totally fine! It was a miraculous escape!’” His hands tangled themselves in his locks.

“I’d thought that Hell would be beside themselves with joy. You know, with all the formenting. Don’t think they’d be too happy with you just giving that up.”

“I know! And that’s the worst part! This is the best work I’ve ever done since I could count the number of humans in existence on one hand.” Newt tugged his hair a little harder than he had previously. I was a miracle his scalp was as healthy as it was. “Discord! Disorder! Death! Dysentery! I’m a bloody rockstar at headquarters!” He cried, giving Anathema a wary look. “But I just wanna go and take a nap. Under a rock. For the rest of the century if possible!”

Newt banged his head onto the war table. His shoulders sulked as he groaned in exhaustion. Anathema raised a hand to place comfortingly on his back; but before her hand could rest on the armor, she drew it back quickly, deciding against it. A lightbulb (which hadn’t happened to be invented yet, but a metaphor is a metaphor.) went off in her head.

“Newt. I think I have an idea that will help the both of us.” She told him.

Newt lifted his head an inch off of the table. “And what’s that?”

“What if you… ‘died’ in the battlefield.” She put air quotes up.

“Okay, I’m with you so far. Sound plan, except for one teensy weensy little detail, Anathema.” Newts voice got really high. “If I just abandon my post, I’m stuffed. Literally. They will stuff me full of bees.”

“Hmmm, then your death has got to be big and dramatic. Something that you could argue that you couldn’t bluff out of.” Anathema speculated. “You have to die doing something that they can even be mad you died to do…” 

She sat herself on the war table. They both sat in the tent for a while rubbing their chins trying to imagine a scenario that fit all of the criteria. 

“Ok. Idea.” Newt proposed. “What if I die taking out one of the heavy hitters on the field with me.” He stood up and dramatically flourished his sword. Anathema scooted a foot back. “We lock eyes on the battlefield!”

He lunged forward. 

“We duel dramatically!” 

He swung the sword around a bit.

“Make a big show of it!”

He throws his body around a bit more, hitting a few pieces of wooden furniture.

“And then finally! I run him through! But oh no! I’m hit!” He shoves the sword between his torso and his armpit.

He fell to ground dramatically, closing his eyes

“And then, my trusty battlefield nurse- that’s you-“ he peeked an eye open and pointed with his pinky to Anathema

“Yeah I got that.” Anathema replies dryly

“-Takes me to a secluded medical tent, patches me up with a few miracles, and then comes out and sadly announce to my men that I have sadly perished from my wounds sustained in combat.” Newt pulled himself off the ground , sheathed his sword and sat back in his chair once more. “I then send a letter explaining my regretful circumstances back to hell, and find a nice little place to take my well deserved vacation. “

“Alright. Sounds like a plan- wait a minute why am I even helping you? Aren’t we supposed to be enemies?” Anathema face palmed herself.

“Please Ana! I’m begging you! I’ll owe you a big one! You’ll be able to tell your bosses that you got rid of Mordred, mortal enemy of King Arthur and foil to his plan for peace and unity!” Newt pleaded. It was easy for Anathema to forget he was a demon when he gave her those big lizard eyes.

“Oh alright. But I’ll remember that you owe me!” Anathema pointed out. “Wait, who even are you planning on… you know… taking down with you?”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

~1597, London~

Newt was drinking like it was the end of the world. Although it quite frankly wouldn’t come for another some odd 440 years, he was still experiencing his own apocalypse. He and Anathema had fought. It hadn’t mattered why.

Ok maybe it mattered a little bit.

Or a big bit.

Anathema had been in a string of rows with her upper management. It’d gotten quite nasty. Well, as nasty as it could get for Angels to get without falling. 

It involved a lot of strongly worded passive aggressive notes. Newt always knew Anathema was a bit too strong willed for her own good.

She’d come to him with a request. Insurance. Hell Fire.

“Remember, 538? Wales? You owe me one, Newt.” She’d argued.

“I thought you’d want a nice hat, or help faking your own death! I didn’t think you’d take it as asking for a sword to fall on! I’m sorry Anathema, I can’t do it.” Newt pleaded. Anathema yelled at him some and he regrets to admit he yelled some back.

“Just like a demon to go back on his word!” She’d screamed.

“Just like an angel to not consider anyone but themselves!” He regrettably yelled back.

That had been the straw that broke the camel’s whole skeleton.

“I don’t even know why I thought you’d understand! We’re enemies. Always have been! Always will be! I’m an Angel! And here I am, fraternizing and begging with one of the fallen!”

She’d always been so strong willed. That’s what he’d thought as he watched her storm off and his heart, or where he figured his heart would be if he weren’t a demon, gained a few new fractures.

He tried to convince himself he didn’t care. He IS a demon. She IS an Angel. Why did he think that could ever change. Maybe he’d been kidding himself. Maybe the 5600 years of… acquaintanceship would change the natural order of anything. He thought of and truly and fully understood at last how Anathema had felt kneeling over Abel’s grave. He was a fool. A fool to become intrigued by her. A fool to follow her. A fool to know her. He such was a fool to lov- oh Satan, he needed so much alcohol. 

So, here we are, all caught up about why we’re focused on a demon drunkenly trying not to cry in a pub and making several grown men uncomfortable. He took the spectacles off of the bridge of his nose. They were starting to fog up and at this point a small part of him no longer even really cared if he was discovered and brought to the bloody pope for all he cared. 

He felt a hand on his back.

“Are you feeling quite alright young man?” A posh accent questioned. Newt turned his head back to the sound of the voice. He was so sloshed that the man’s face was swirling in his vision like a pond whose surface was being used to practice skipping stones upon. He could make out a goatee and an unfortunate hairline. 

“Wouldn’t be drinking alone in a bar if I was gladsome, would I?” 

“No, I suppose not. Do you wish to talk about it.” The man with the bad hair asked

“You won’t understand….” Newt held out for a name

“William.” He posited. “And I am quite acquainted with my fair bit of tragedy, my good fellow.” 

“Well- I suppose- Um- Let’s begin with, well, the beginning. Everything starts with two warring-“ Newt looked at his very human guest. “Families. Mine and this woman’s. Oh what a woman she is. She is the sun. She makes every other face look sick and pale with grief that they cannot match her beauty or charm. And when she speaks, oh. She speaks- she speaks to me and all I can think is, ‘O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night. You are a being over my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on you when you bestride the lazy-pacing clouds and sail upon the bosom of the air.’” Newt pronounces loudly and forlornly.

“Then why not be with her?” His intrigued company asks

“That’s-thas where the family bits come in. You see our families have been fighting for sooooooo long. I can’t even remember how long. Well I prolly could, but I’m pretty drunk. So yeah they fight a whole lot.”

“Oh do go on.” William slid him another pint, which Newt greedily accepted.

After he woke up from the hangover a month later, he found a front row ticket in his mail for the opening night to a play he’d never heard of before. Anathema would have wanted to go. He went back to sleep. Another month oughta do it.

~International Waters, 1692~

It was a dark night. Winds blow loudly and two ships circled each other through the dark waters of the oceans. Lightning cracked the sky like a whip upon the backs of chattel, but no rain fell. The glow of the pale full moon cast an eerie green glow upon the choppy waves. Sea spray battered the sides of ships. 

Captain Thema stood in the crows nest of her ship, and observed through the eye of her telescope. She observed as the crew of the potentially dangerous ship scrambled about the deck of their ship. It was clear from their lack of preparation that they would hope to avoid any type of fighting. She felt another presence join her in the crows nest. She put down and collapsed her telescope and looked at her first mate, Julia. 

“Cap’n, the crew’r await’n orders.” She informed, in her quick gruff manner.

“Tell them to stand down until either I give the signal or the other crew fires first. Until then, man battle stations.” Anathema reported.

“Aye-aye cap’n!” Julia saluted before she climbed down swiftly to deliver orders.

Anathema opened here telescope again and scanned the deck of the opposite ship for any signs of aggression. Another whip of lightning shook the sky once more, finally wringing the rain from their clouds. Anathema snapped her fingers, miracling up layer of waterproofing over herself. She stood firm in the rain, ignoring the harsh sting of the cold hard drops that hit and promptly slid off her face. She began her search for the ship's captain. It was usually just a search for whoever had the nicest coat and hat. The demeanor of the captain was a good indicator of the demeanor of the crew

Aha! There he was, coming out from behind the door of the captains quarters. His gaze was hidden behind the glare of wetted spectacles. His body language looked uneasy yet held firmly together like fish in a net. His face looked…

Oh my god.

“Are you kidding me?” Anathema droned. She concentrated and felt her wings unfolding from their place in-between realities. 

She hovered a bit, considering her options. She swiftly made up her mind. It was one of her favorite abilities. She quickly darted through the sky, water rolling off of the quick beat of her iridescent green wings. Her purple frock fluttered behind her in the winds that blew warm over the salty sea and blew harshly under the roaring clouds. 

She landed on the deck and made her way to quarters where the captain had gone, he was alone. The fool.

“Ah Captain Pulsifer! So we meet again. I must say, it’s quite the demotion from a General to a Captain.” She said bitterly

The captain of the ship jumped. He turned around, fumbling with the spadroon at his waist and bumped the wall several times with the sheath. Finally, his golden eyes made contact with her own. “Ana?”

“That’s Captain Ana to you, lizard boy. I see that you haven’t gotten any better at swordplay since the 6th century, Captain.” She jibed. She pulled a chair from the desk that sat close to her and lounged in it nonchalantly.

“I see you’re feeling a bit tetchy.” Newt drew a little closer, putting away the sword.

“I imagine you would too, if I told you I’d “Be back in a minute!” And then left you alone for 37 years, playing witch hunter. No letters, no word, nothing! And here we are, meeting on accident! So yeah, Newton Pulsifer, I’m a little tetchy.” Her voice was laced with razors. 

“Listens, Anathema, it really was out of my control. I wanted to come back, but then Hell got word that I was Witch Finder General Pulsifer and they were pleased with me and then they told me not to mess it up like when I was Mordred. So I couldn’t just walk away, and then the witch trials got called off and I was gonna find you then but then Beelzebub put me on this assignment and then I figured that it had been to long and it would be awkward just like it is now- And you get what I mean right?”

“What I’m getting is that I’m realizing that you steal a lot more dead men’s identities to get your work done than- wait a minute- Your guys put you on pirate duty?” She asked seriously.

“Yeah! You know, putting terror on the high seas, disrupting trade routes, destroying and stealing property, whole list of reasons. So you see, I had a lot on my plate. Why?” Newt questioned.

Anathema started to giggle, and then that turned chortle, which turned into a cackle, and that turned into a full blown belly laugh. Newt was quite sure that their years apart had caused her to go mad and was feeling much guiltier about his leave of absence.

“Um, Anathema? Ana? Are you quite alright?” He asked tentatively.

Anathema wiped away the tears that formed in her eyes. “I- heh- I’m fine Newt. It’s just, well, my side stationed me here too. You know, to tamper with government ships that are on their way to colonize indigenous people, give a purpose and home to those with nowhere else to go, rob plantation owners so they go bankrupt and have to shut down production, stop ships with weapons that are trying to stop revolutions, etcetera, etcetera.” She started cackling again.

“So we’re out here doing the same thing, getting the same results, but with different intent and both of our sides are okay with that. Oh my sweet lord Satan in Hell.” Newt face palmed.

“You know, I’m feeling a bit like shore leave right now.” Anathema said slumping into her chair.

“I do believe we have miraculously drifted close to a lovely port off the coast of France during this terrible storm. I do believe that if we dock now, our crews will find rooms at a lovely little inn with a terrific selection of rum and a certain… reputation for turning a blind eye to it’s more illicit clientele.” Newt said wearily with a hint of humor on the fringe of his words.

A soft smirk graced Anathema’s lips. She removed her hat and placed it on the mahogany desk. “You’re an Angel, Newton.”

“Nah, I was never good enough to be one of those.” Newt said dismissively.

“Newt… if it makes a difference, any at all, I think you’re a good-“

“It doesn’t. Make a difference that is.” Newt turned away from her to face the port window. “Besides, that’s not what I meant.”

“Wh-“ Anathema began before she was cut off by the sound of a crewman’s declaration of land. 

“You should probably go back to your crew.” Newt said, not bothering to turn his body away from the window. “They are going to need their captain if they are going to dock in this unfamiliar port.”

“Yes, I suppose… meet you at that little French inn?” Anathema questioned hopefully.

Newt finally turned to face her; the glare from the transpiring sun coming through the window cast a glare over his lenses, hiding his eyes in a way that both were thankful for for different reasons. A small smile that held several unspoken words found itself upon his face.

“That sounds lovely.”

~1812, French Army Camp, The Russian Border~

There were a lot of reasons that Napoleon failed in his invasion of russia. The main reason was that both Heaven and Hell thought that he was getting a little big for his britches. Or as big as one (1) Napoleon Bonaparte could be. So they both sent their top field operatives to take him down a peg.

Well, Heaven and Hell sent their only respective field operative; considering that to be a field operative, you have to willingly stay on the field for more than a week at a time. (Heaven was too squeamish around the stink of sin to which Anathema had grown a kind of intolerance towards. Meanwhile, most demons didn’t tended to not have to stay longer than a day to do their work,.)

It was midnight. Dark settled over the battlements like a blanket. Most soldiers had settled in for the night, ready to begin their first tour in the morning, while some had been given guard duty and were patrolling the outer border of the camp. Two operatives, of different yet similar origin, stood in the shadows of the trees. Post what was now known between them as “The Pirate Paradox” (Newt’s name for it anyways, Anathema never really referred to the incident by any names.) they kept in touch quite a bit more about holy and infernal plans, to check for any overlap of course. It happened more frequently than someone who had no knowledge of the inner works and machinations of Heaven and Hell would think. The only obvious solution was an Arrangement. One with a capital A.

In another universe (and several like it), there was a similar Arrangement with a capital A. In those universes, the Arrangement involved one going off and doing the work of two; meanwhile in this one, it involved two doing the work of one. When an assignment came that involved a little bit of overlap, the angel and the demon would pool together their forces to make it happen. 

So that brings us here. In the edge of the forest, near the bank of the river on a midsummer night, with an angel and a demon having a planning session.

“Okay,” Newt began. “Through my expert skills of demonic stealth, I’ve managed to secure a copy of their mapped out invasion route.” He held in his hand a rolled up piece of parchment, which he waved in the air for show. Said powers of demonic stealth had involved shifting into his lizardly form and scurrying off with the map in his mouth. He was still proud of himself and Anathema wasn’t going to take that from him. 

Newt laid the map out on a stump and placed rocks on the corners to keep it held firmly in place. “Let there be light.” Anathema whispered as she quickly snapped her fingers. A soft orb of dim light appeared overhead. Enough to read by, but not enough to spot behind the thick cover of the trees. Anathema spoke in a sneaky whisper, “Okay, so here’s what I’ve dubbed my  _ phase 1 _ . Ok, so, first tonight we need to infiltrate the camp to get as many people to desert as possible.” 

“They  _ are  _ French so it shouldn’t be too hard.” Newt posited, causing Anathema to bite her lip to avoid laughing.

“Anyways, Newt, you go in and take all of the soldiers in the north side of the camp and I take the half on the south side. You get to give them nightmares; brutal death, dead friends, bloody battlefields, weeping families, etcetera. I go in and give them dreams of their families and homes, making them homesick, an actual bed and good food, the births of their unborn, weddings and other good things they have waiting back home.” The Angel explained

“My, my Ana, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that sounds like some A-Grade tempting.” Newt gave his smirking praises.

“High praise from the original tempter, O’ Lizard of Eden.” Anathema conceded.

“Okay, here’s my bit.” Newt stated eagerly. “So, the farther inland we get, when the soldiers stop for food, we nick some more rations than were planned. Eventually, they’ll be forced to retreat to restock.”

“Very nice, Newton. Okay, phase three. When we get close to each village, we alert them beforehand and they evacuate and take everything with them so they have nothing to pillage.”

“Yeah… evacuate… Okay, here’s what I consider my coup de grâce. Napoleon is a smarmy, smug little bugger, correct?” Newt asked

“Oh absolutely.” Anathema confirmed.

“So, he’s expecting that this invasion will be over by the end of summer, early fall at most. When I stole the map, I got a good look at their supplies. They only packed light, summer uniforms. They aren’t prepared for the harsh winters of Russia. It would be a shame if they got caught in an early winter…” Newt gave her a conspiratorial look. 

“I see what you’re getting at.” Anathema winked. “Wait, aren’t you cold blooded? You get really sleepy and cold during the  _ British  _ winters, are you going to be okay?”

“O, ye of little faith. I can hold out for a few weeks in the snow.” He shrugged in a nonchalant way that definitely masked that fact that, no, he had not thought of that.

“Fine, but if you pass out, I’m  _ not  _ carrying you.” Anathema warned

He did, and she did.

“Alright, Let’s get cracking, we only have about 4 hours til the men rise.” Newt said, taking the map and rolling it back up and placing it in his jacket pocket. Anathema turned out her light. “Bet I can get done quicker.” Newt smiled challengingly at her. 

“Oh you are on lizard boy.” Anathema confidently responded to the challenge. “Bet you a bottle of vodka, I beat you”

“Enemies?” Newt’s smile grew, exposing all of his teeth in that way that Anathema found secretly endearing.

“Til the end of time.” Anathema responded in a casual manner, not knowing the full truth of her statement. “ We meet back here. On the count of three. One… Two.. HEY!” she yelled as Newt had already taken off into the darkness and she chased after.

~1912, Atlantic Ocean~

“Oh, Anathema! Let’s go on the boat Anathema! America is a great place to vacation Anathema! Not even She can sink this boat Anathema!” Anathema said mockingly as she dragged her companion by the hand towards her room. It had been a first class room of course, with beautiful furnishings and linoleum flooring. Not that it mattered due to the fact that the ship was going down. For Her sake! She had been on a boat made out of gopherwood by an untrained farmer in 3004 BC and not even that boat sank! 

“How the Heaven was I supposed to know about the huge bleeding iceberg in our path?” Newt defended, his face going red. “And for the millionth time, I said I was sorry, Ana!”

“Whatever! Doesn’t matter now!” She rushed, she threw open her beauro and took out her clothes. She thrust a dress and a pair of knickers in Newt’s arms. “Quick, put these on.”

“Um, you wan- what?” Newt sputtered, going even brighter. 

“Oh don’t be a nun about it, I can turn around, now chop chop. They’re taking women and children on the lifeboats first and I’d rather not get separated.” She snapped, turning around. 

“Um, I don’t think I can fit…” Newt said unsteadily behind her.

“Newton Pulsifer. You are a demon. And a shapeshifter. And you have magic. Put two and two together.” Anathema impatiently snapped.

“Oh. Heh right. One second.” Newt nervously chuckles. His form became lower to the ground, his body became a little softer around the edges and his hair fell in long locks. He could feel his vocal cords changing shape as he willed his voice to be higher. She was now exactly Anathema’s proportions. She slung her now baggy suit off of her body and instead of bothering with the several unnecessary buttons and hooks and complicated undergarments, she snapped her fingers and had them instantly on her body. 

“Alright, Ana, you can turn around now. How do I look?” Newt asked, feeling a little self conscious about her new form. Not that she was feeling embarrassed about having a female form; being a demon, she never had any attachment to any gender in particular. It wasn’t even the first time she’d ever donned a more femme form, she wasn’t the original tempter for nothing. The insecurity came more from the fact that Anathem had never seen her in this form before. It was a bit nerve wracking, as Newt thought very highly of the Angel and her opinions.

Said Angel was having a problem picking her jaw up off the floor and keeping her eyes focused in one place. Finally, a shake of the boat interrupted her ogling. “You look very pretty- I mean the dress looks very pretty on you- not that you don’t look nice without it, I’m sure that you’d look stunning without it on too. Wait-no! I mean- It suits you. If we get out of this with our corporations intact, you can keep it.” She turned away before Newt could get a good look at the red on her face. Anathema grabbed her now smaller hand. “Let’s go!” she said hurriedly.

-LATER ON THE LIFEBOAT-

“I’m still mad at you for convincing me to get on this death trap.” Anathema glared at her friend, who was both shivering and leaning up onto her for both warmth and a place to rest her head as she drifted off.

“‘M sure ya ‘r…” Newt slurred as she nuzzled her face into Anathema’s curls. Anathema was extremely glad that newt was falling asleep and couldn’t see the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You seriously owe me now.” Anathema warned, her voice warbling.

“What els’s is new?” Newt yawned. “Oy, Ana?”

“Yes, Newt?”

“‘M gunna takea nap now…” Newt sighed sleepily as sleep overtook her prone form.

“You do that.” Anathema whispered. She blushed as she placed a feather-light kiss on Newt’s head. “And dream of whatever it is you like best.”

Newt’s face broke out into a serene smile and nuzzled even further into Anathema. Anathema looked over the wrecked ship making it’s slow descent into the icy water. The night would be a long one and help would likely not come for a long time, but that was okay. She could stay right there in this position forever.

~1986, SoHo, London~

A blue car rolled to a stop in front of a store on 18 Greek Street. The color the storefront was painted in and the stained glass were colors that could only be described as the colors one imagined when thinking of a dragon’s hoard of jewels. Despite the store being ten years old, the paint looked constantly like it was brand new; especially next to its neighbor, an antique book store that had the luxury of corner front property and had somehow managed to stay with the same family since 1800. The sign hanging over the door read in big gold loopy font.

“A. THEMA’S METAPHYSICAL SHOP AND APPOCATHERY EST.1976”

Newt ignored the closed sign walked into the little shop. The shop could be described as eclectic. Tapestries hung on every wall, and several candles burned with a strong scent of vanilla, cinnamon, lavender, and a slight hint of lemon. Tables and shelves advertised herbs, home remedies, crystals and several divination methods from tarot cards to pendulums. A rocking chair and a beanbag chair sat tucked in a little alcove with a small table with a lamp perched upon it. It was their corner Newt thought with pride as he walked past it, looking around for his friend. She’d called him over to show him something and made it sound like a really big deal, whatever it was.

“Ana?” He shouted into the empty shop, not seeing her.

“I’M IN THE BACK!” An angelic voice shouted from the back. Newt scrambled into the back room. He observed Anathema, hunched over her desk, looking at something. A rapid clicking noise came from where she sat, like the sound of a typewriter. Was she getting into poetry again? He recalled that his friend was rather chummy with that nice Irish chap, Wilde. He’d been rather friendly, if not more friendly with Newt; and Newt was a little sad that after their first meeting, Anathema never brought him over again.

“What is it you were so excited to show me?” He asked, hoping it was poetry. Anathema had quite a way with words and he would be honored to be the first to read whatever she wrote.

Anathema stood up quickly and rushed over to him. Newt gave her a look over. Her style was now what the kids called ‘vintage’. She had on several pieces that she’d kept since the 1910’s, with just enough modern touches to steer her fashion sense from period piece to fashionably eccentric.She had also taken up the habit of wearing glasses when she had no need to. Unlike Newt’s frames, which served to distract from his otherworldly irises, her round tortoiseshell glasses made her large black eyes look even bigger, Newt had recently gotten into the punk scene. He hadn’t dared to try the large gelled hair do’s or the bright, ostentatious makeup, but though he did look rather ‘spiffy’ in the clothes. Although, the nerdiness of his own frames definitely detracted from the coolness of it. He didn’t even have to take off his witchfinder’s jacket.

“Ok, so you know how I bought all of those Apple stocks?” Anathema excitedly asked rhetorically.

“You bought stock in a fruit company?” Newt confusedly asked seriously.

“No, Lizard boy,” Anathema playfully rolled her eyes “the tech company. Anyways, I'm a majority share-holder and so they sent me this.” She extended a hand to a strange looking box with a keyboard in front of it.

“A new typewriter.” Newt states

“No, it’s called a computer, it’s like a typewriter but no paper!” Anathema enthusiastically explained. “You can also go ‘on lines’.”

“Can I see?” Newt curiously inquired.

“Oh, sure!” Anathema complied, pulling out the rolling chair for him.

Newt sat down and grabbed what anathema called the ‘mouse’ even though he was sure it was not a small rodent. He moved it to a button labeled ‘settings’ and nervously clicked. Instantly the screen started to blink and glitch with color and it started making noises that Newt was 100% percent sure that ‘computers’ should not make, before the screen went pitch black and music came from the device.

**_“Voulez-vous AH-HAH_ **

**_Take it now or leave it_ **

**_Now is all we get_ **

**_Nothing promised, no regrets_ **

**_Voulez-vous AH-HAH_ **

**_Ain't no big decision_ **

**_You know what to do_ **

**_La question C'est voulez-vous_ **

**_Voulez-vous”_ **

Newt blushed furiously. At the sweet tones of ABBA, he knew it was his fault, ever since the seventies and his trip to Sweden, any radio near him would play the catchy tunes.

“OH SHIT! Anathema I am so  _ so  _ sorry. I did-” He begged

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.” She insisted. “It was just a prototype, I can get a new one when they come out in the stores.”

“Really?” Newt sighed in defeat.

“Really. Besides, I bet it was just a one time thing that the manufacturers will sort out.” Anathema reassured softly

“Yeah, I bet.”

~1990, SoHo, London~

In the years following her buying the shop, Anathema had become quite close with her neighbors. (The Fell’s, not Mrs.Pope, who was probably the real witch of SoHo.) They were a polite family from a long line of books collectors and sellers who were always quick to tell her about how much she looked like her now retired mother who ran the shop before her while she had been at boarding school off in her mother’s home country of America. She was particularly close with their son, Azira. 

Azira Zebediah Fell was a polite young man of 21. Unfortunate name though. After the shop had been named AZ Fell’s, he had once informed her over a glass of wine when he was 19, the original owner; Alexander Zackery Fell, who Anathema had to admit bore a striking resemblance to Azira and his father, had decided that every Fell boy who owned the store would bear the initials A Z Fell. For branding purposes of course. Unfortunately, they had never been ones to repeat names in the 190 years the shop had been open and had begun to run out of A names and Z names. 

“Wh-when I have a son, ’m not gonna givim- GIVE HIM an A-Z name.” Azira had slurred to her. He’d get ta’ be waddever ‘e wan’ned.” The young Fell had slurred out to him that night after recalling all of the grief that kids had given to him over the years for his name. Even now that he was in Uni and he was sure that kids “Would’ve grown outta this kinda this foo-, this fooli- thing by now.”

“You’re lucky Ana.” Azira sighed to her this night. The store had closed and he was counting money out of the antique cash register, which funny enough was probably the newest thing in the store. 

“How so?” She asked in response as she sat on the counter and watched him work. She was one of the few people with the privilege to be inside the building after hours.

(The list included Her, The Fell’s, The telly repair man, and Newt, on the unspoken conditions that a) Anathema was with him, b) he continued to bribe them with his extremely well knitted Christmas presents every year and the occasional ride to Azira’s classes, and c) he went nowhere near anything with wiring in it.)

“You’ve already gotten everything figured out,” He explained, closing the register. “Your mum just gave you the shop as soon as you finished sixth form and retired quietly in Scotland and you’ve been running it perfectly for 5 whole years. And we’re practically the same age!” He incorrectly bemoaned. “I’ve been helping out since I could hold a broom and I’ve learned everything my parents had to teach me, yet they’re still making me finish university before I can take over!”

He flopped back into his favorite chair He stared at the improbably high ceiling and sighed. Anathema followed him over to it and sat lightly on the arm of the chair.

“I think it’s amazing that you get to be able to go to college. I would’ve loved to have gotten to go and meet people my own age and gotten the full college experience. I was expected to come here already fully formed and perfect. I didn’t get a period to just be young and stupid, you do, you shoud cherish it. This is your third year, after this you only have one left and then what?” She poked his cheek “You gonna start getting your dad’s wrinkles and turn into a responsible adult who runs a bookshop and does taxes? Be boring like me?” she moved her finger to her chest.

Azira chuckled “You say that like you aren’t the coolest person I know. And I thought that too, you know, about Uni? I thought, ‘Ok, I’m here, it’s going to be better than it was in secondary school.” He slumped down even more pitifully. “But it’s been just like secondary! I joined fencing, clubs, I joined the student union association for christ sake. But all I’ve gotten out of it all is just acquaintances. I’m still just the friendly loner who no one invites to any parties, and if you asked anyone about me at school they’d just say, ‘Azira? Who? Oh you mean that nice, quiet guy with the weird name.’ That’s all I am and that’s all I’ll ever be, Ana. Nice and Quiet.” He looked her in the eyes and a wave of sadness came off of him. It physically impacted Anathema, nearly knocking her off her chair. “I would kill to have something with someone like you have with Newton.”

“Wh-Me and Newt?! There’s nothing- We don’t have  _ anything _ , together.” Anathema red facedly stuttered.

Azira thought about the way the two looked at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, all of the little inside jokes they had, the way they seemed to know each other better than his own parents, and he decided then and there that he would rather die than pine for anyone for nearly as long as they clearly had been. “Regardless of the nature of your relationship with Mr.Pulsifer, it’s pretty clear that he’s the closest person in the world to you and you’re very likely the same to him. I just want a relationship with someone like that. Platonic, Romantic, I’d even take a close relationship with a sibling if my parents had even bothered to have any kids other than me.” He sighed, “You probably think I sound pathetic, don’t you?”

“Azira, no! I absolutely do not think that about you!” Anathema comforted him.

“And tomorrow, I have to go back to classes.” Azira continued to mope. “I have to show around a group of first years, student union duties.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone there?” Anathema offered hopefully.

“Unlikely.” Azira grimaced. “Most of them already have friends and partners that they followed here. Most of them don’t stop to talk to the tour guide afterward; and If I try, they think I’m just being nice because of the job.”

“I’m sure this year will be different. I think the universe has someone lined up for you.” She winked, praying desperately to God that she was right. While Azira was by no means her closest friend, he had correctly deduced that that particular honor went to Newt, he was certainly her closest human friend and she hated to see him so upset. It was like watching one of those animal shelter ads that played _ In the Arms of the Angels  _ over footage of crying animals. 

Little did either know, the events of the following day actually were set up by the Universe at the very Beginning with a capital B. God is just that good.

-THE FOLLOWING DAY-

Now it was Anathema who was tending to her store. She was freshening up a bundle of sage when the door chimed in to alert her to a customer. 

“Hello! Welcome to-” She began her customer service speech when she was interrupted by an absolutely feral Azira grabbing her by her arms and shaking her like a bobblehead.

“ANA,ITHAPPENEDITHAPPENED,OHMYGOD!” Azira rushed out excitedly. 

“What happened Azira?”Anathema asked, still being shaken.

“I met someone!” He let her go and did his little excited wiggle. “His name is Anthony and he’s one of my first years and he’s absolutely PERFECT, Ana.” 

“Oh geez, I think we need to sit down over some tea and gossip.” She ran to the door and flipped the sign in the window to ‘closed’. Anathema took him by the shoulders and moved him into the little sitting nook, where two cups of lemongrass tea were miraculously waiting. (Not that Azira noticed, he was so excited.) The bean bag chair was usually reserved for Newt, but this was an exceptional case.

She plopped him down in said bean bag chair with a force uncommon in most human women. “Now dish.”

“Okay, so here’s how my day started.” Azira began his tale.

-EARLIER THAT DAY-

Azira looked over his assigned group of first years. Or where his group would be. He was quite sure that Names Be-Cr were supposed to meet at the statue at 9am sharp. He did what he always did with himself when he we nervous. He fidgeted. He adjusted his name tag, he made sure his clothes were on straight and made sure that his sign was up high enough for anyone to see, and straightened out the materials on his display table. He glanced at his watch.

9:47

He sighed and began to pack his things up. So much for the Universe having someone lined up for him.

“HEY! BUB! HOLD UP!” a high strung voice from across the quad yelled out. Azira looked over to the source of the noise and saw a man, thin as a rail running towards him. Azira noted with some amusement that the man’s running form was like that of a man who had spent his entire life without legs and was still getting used to them. As he drew closer Azira got a better look at him. His long flaming red hair was thrown up in a messy bun that was somehow sloppily stylish. His clothes were in a weird area of looking like they both were bought from a good will and a high-end fashion boutique: a distressed queen shirt covered with a sharp (literally) leather jacket, tucked into a high-waisted red plaid skirt with a black belt that upon closer inspection was actually a snake biting its own tail, under those were a pair of leggings dipping into a pair of low-cut, black, snakeskin boots. His face was obscured by a pair of black shades and a bandage on the side of his face. But, even with those items obscuring his face, Azkra had to admit he was quite… pretty.

Azira was suddenly feeling quite frumpy and old fashioned in his beige cardigan, light blue button-up, and khakis as the stranger approached.

“Can I help you?” Azira asked them. 

“I’m here for the tour, of course. Can’t bloody find my way around this goddamn labyrinth of a campus without one can I?” The mysterious stranger grumpily explained and pulled up a piece of paper with the announcement of the Student Union New Student Tours from his jacket pocket.

“Well it technically started 47 minutes ago.” Azira explained.

“Dammit all! I missed it!” The strange man kicked up a clump of dirt in front of him.

“Actually you’re the only one whose showed up today.” Aziraphale shrugged. “So I guess in comparison, you’re actually early.”

“Oh… So can I have all the free stuff on the table then?” the redhead asked curiously, already nicking the freebies, including pens, sweets, stress balls, and a frisbee, and shoving them deep into his pockets

“Well, I guess. I don’t suppose that anyone else will be taking them…” Azira said disappointedly. “But make sure to grab a name tag!” he added on hastily at the end.

“Of course… Aziraphale?” He pronounced the name like a question.

“It’s Azira Fell, my dear boy. Wait what are your pronouns? I don’t want to be rude.”Azira admitted sheepishly

“Huh, that’s the first time someone’s actually bothered to ask instead of making assumptions.” He admitted nervously. “I use he/him most of the time, but sometimes I use she/her. I’ll let you know, but if it’s unclear I don’t mind you using he/him. Right now I’m a he.”

“Excellent! So, may I have your name?” Azira handed him the name tag and a sharpie.

“I won’t give it to you, but I can tell you.” He chuckled at his own joke softly, writing his name on the name tag.

HELLO, MY NAME IS:

ANTHONY J. CROWLEY

“Well, Anthony J. Crowley, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Azira smiled his biggest, brightest smile and extended his hand, and Anthony took it and gave it a slight squeeze. Azira just barely missed the faint blush that dusted Crowley’s cheeks as he did so. “It’s a shame that we couldn't meet the rest of your classmates. I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of the day. I wonder why they didn't show, you actually did so I know that the fliers were all correct, and last year everyone came for the New Student Tour. So I wonder where they are now.” Azira pondered.

Anthony was definitely blushing in full view of Azira now. “That might actually be my fault actually.”

Azira’s eyebrows bounced to his hairline. “And how is that? You didn’t kill all of them did you? Because then I’m afraid I would have to shut down the tour for good, my dear boy.”

Anthony smiled at his joke and scratched the back of his head. “Nothing like that. No, you see, yesterday was the final day of move-in week. So I thought it’d be a fun idea to throw a little party for the class of ‘94 before everything got super hectic. And so I told my roommate, Dave, that I’m throwing the party and he could invite a few mates ‘round long as they brought something to drink. So he invited his mate Mike and his moll, Georgia. And Mike and Georgia invite a few of their mates from before we started uni, and those friends just HAD to bring along their new roommates. And those roommates invited their childhood friends and you get the picture. And everyone had the grand idea that they would be welcome as long as they brought copious amounts of alcohol. So we there we were, the entire first year class, drinking like we got shot in the trenches and were in line to get our legs cut off. I, personally, can hold my alcohol and can handle a little hangover, but everyone else… Let’s just say the ER is going to be pumping a lot of stomachs this morning.” Anthony grimaced. “I woke up, ass up in the front lawn of the dorms at 8:30, with a killer headache, no underwear, and this on the side on the side of my face.” He pointed to the bandage.

“Oh dear.” Azira conceded. He was by no means an alcoholic but he was no stranger to sharing a few rounds with Newt and Ana. Those two could drink like monsters though, and only a fool would dare try and match pace. “Is that why your wearing the glasses? Hangover?” he offered sympathetically. 

“These?” Anthony pointed to his rather stylish glasses. “Nah, got over than hangover a while ago. I know a great hangover cure from my old man. These just complete the look.” To prove a point, he slid them down his nose, exposing the lightest amber eyes Azira ever seen, and he winked. Azira really hoped Anthony couldn’t see him blush when he put the sun glasses back on.

“Well, seeing as you’re the only one who’ll be coming, if your story has any truth to it, I guess we might as well get a wiggle on.” Azira squeaked, causing a slight giggle to escape Anthony’s mouth.

“Dear boy? Get a wiggle on? You speak like my Great Aunt Rose.” He teased. Azira deflated and looked like he wanted to shrink into his cardigan.

“Do I? Heh, sorry.” Azira quietly apologized, getting that kicked puppy look on his face.

Anthony looked suddenly very affronted. “Hey, there’s no need for all the apologizing. I never said it was a bad thing! It’s just a you thing, I think it’s unique. I’m a  _ very  _ unique person and you don’t catch me going round apologizing to everyone who recognizes it.” 

“Y-you think I’m unique?” Azira asked seriously.

“I gotta say, you make quite the impression.” Anthony smiled with all his teeth. “Not a lot of people can pull off the cute librarian and the punk rock bleached hair look at once, but you make it work, Fell.”

“Bleached hair look?” Azira dumbly asked, choosing very consciously to ignore the ‘cute’ part of that sentence, lest he explode.

“Yeah, how do you even get it that color?” Anthony inquired. “I tried to do that once in year 10 and it looked like absolute garbage, lucky me my hair grows out fast.”

“It’s not bleach, I was born with it this color.” Azira sheepishly admitted.

“You what?” Even with the glasses, Azira could tell Anthony’s eyes had gone big. “Like I said. Unique. Now, let’s get on with the tour!” He clapped his hands together. 

“Yes, lets!” Azira agreed excitedly. As much as he had complained about it to Anathema about it, Azira was at heart a nerd and loved school. He led his one man band of a tour group to all of the main stops. The gym, the admissions building, the library, the quad, ect.

“And here on the left is the main building for the department of performing art!” He pointed a modern looking building.

“Listen, Fell.” Anthony interrupted bluntly. “As much as I love a good Shakespeare in the park, I’m actually planning on being a science major. Anything you can show me there?”

“Oh- um.” Azira thought for a moment. He was personally majoring in History of Art, Materials and Technology with a minor in Historical Literature. “Which field?” he asked, hoping for some form of inspiration.

“Astronomy. I plan on being a proper genius about everything up there. I’m gonna discover so much about it, that people think I helped create the stars.” Anthony said fondly. Suddenly Azira was struck with a lightbulb moment.

“I think I know just the place.” Azira told him, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him across the campus. Then he was being dragged across the street. Before Anthony could think to ask where they were going, he found himself in front of an old building. It looked like any other building, except for a large green dome.

“Close your eyes.” Azira said and surprisingly, only to Anthony, Anthony complied. He allowed the tour guide to lead him blindly around until he felt two hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. He felt himself hitting the top of a folding chair, like the ones found at a cinema. “Alright, open them.” Azira urged. Anthony opened them and the first thing he perceived was the darkness of the room and after his eyes adjusted, they perceived something else:

Stars. Alpha centauri to be exact.

Anthony took off the sunglasses. Azira stared in awe as his nearly golden eyes looked with fascination at the ceiling above them.

“We’re in a planetarium.” Anthony stated

“That we are, my dear boy.” Azira confirmed.

“How, not even the starbucks is open yet.” Crowley asked, intrigued by the projected sky above. 

“Well, one of the lads on the fencing team works here, and I may have abused my power as captain a little bit for the sake of my tour group.”

“That was both the most sweet and yet slightly bastardly thing anyone has ever done for me.” Anthony said in an adoring yet light tone.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good.”

-RIGHT NOW-

“Oh my God, Ana. And he did this little smirk and I could see these dimples and he had cheekbones you can cut GLASS on.” Azira sighed dreamily and then frowned slightly. “And now I’ll probably never see him again. He’s got a different major and he’s a few classes below me so we don’t even have any core classes together.”

“No!” Anathema shouted like she was watching a plot twist heavy telenovela. She then remembered herself. “What I mean is, lose the negative vibes you’re putting into the world, the Universe already put you two together once! I bet it will help you find eachother again.”

Azira looked at her optimistically. She HAD been right before today about the universe sending him someone. “You really think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” She winked surely. 

Even if the Universe wasn’t going to put them together, which it most certainly would FYI, she would.

-LATER AT THE PULSIFER RESIDENCE-

Newt was currently lying on his bed, carefully crocheting a nice scarf for the upcoming anniversary of the day him and Anathema had met in eden, October 28th. (The tradition of celebrating had begun sometime during the 8th century, after they had finally admitted to being actually friends.) He heard Mrs.Pulsifer, no relation to himself, opening the front door and then closing it. She was talking to someone now. He could hear the sound of boots clacking as they ascended the stairs rapidly. He knew by instinct it was his favorite Angel He quickly put the hook in the yarn he was working with and threw it under his pillow like a dirty magazine and grabbed the thing nearest to him to act busy with. 

“NEWT HOLY FUCK!” Anathema yelled kicking down his door. Newt screamed in shock. “So- Stop screaming, Newt, it’s just me.”

“Blessit Ana! What the Heaven are you screaming about?” Newt weezed.

“I’m cashing in on that favor.” Ana said firmly.

“Favor?” Newt said obviously

“Wales, 6th century.”

“Oh yeah. So what is it that you need the help of the forces of hell for.” Newt reclined on his bed.

Anathema walked over and sat on the foot of the bed and made serious eye contact “I need you to help me track someone down.”

“Ooh? Who? Thief? Rogue angel? Someone nearly hit your bike on the highway one too many times? General Miscreant?” Newt asked with an excitedly dark tone of voice and Anathema remembered with shutter that her best friend  _ was  _ still a demon.

“College student, this is for Azira Fell.” 

“Azira? The bloke with the funny name and the old bookstore?” 

“The same.”Anathema confirmed.

“Why?” Newt asked curiously. It wasn’t totally unlike Anathema to go out of her way to help a poor human, but to call on the favor of a demon to do so? That was new.

“Because, I am very invested in their relationship and I am very convinced that they are soulmates.” Anathema stated like it was a fact like “The sky is blue.” and “Gabriel is a dickhead”. And on both a cosmic and basic level, it most certainly was. 

“So, you mean to tell me that you intend to collect on a millenia and a half old favor, just so you can meddle in the affairs of and play matchmaker for two mortals?”

“...Yes.”

“Okay. I’m in. What’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there be a part three? Oh yes. Is this fic now officially about as long as Animal Farm by George Orwell and you could've spent this time learning about anti-authoritarianism? Most Certainly. Will you subscribe and leave Kudos' and some beautiful opinions in the comment section? Up to you. But remember that comments are my lifeblood and are what peer pressure me to keep this train chugging.
> 
> Be sure to follow me on Tumblr @space-is-out-there and don't be shy! I love anons and messages!  
> Bonus points if you can figure out which university Azira and Crowley are attending and what that bandage is.

**Author's Note:**

> WE HAVE A DISCORD BOIS: https://discord.gg/8dw2s8D


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